#predictable behavior from me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

aeyumicore · 11 months ago

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misty invasion - hidden motive

━ .ᐟ✧ PAIRING: zayne x female reader (afab)

━ ✧.˖ GENRE: smut, porn with some/little plot, porn with feelings

━ .ᐟ✧ WORD COUNT: 3.6k

━ ✧.˖ WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, slight spoilers to ‘hidden motive’ (zayne’s misty invasion card), knee humping, titty sucking, titty sucking through clothes, titty nibbling (zayne is a boobie fiend), slight predator and prey, switch!zayne (he’s dom but kinda needy and vulnerable), use of Y/N, sub!reader, unprotected sex, cumming in panties, reader on top

━ .ᐟ✧ LINKS: video | ao3 | sylus's version | raf's version | xav's version

━ ✧.˖ A/N: haiiii guyssss i decided to upload the boys’ misty invasion fics one at a time! first up is baby zayne <3 his card inspired me so much, it was so intimate and passionate.

next up will probably be sylus, hopefully will post in maybe 3ish days! I haven’t watched raf’s or xav’s but i have ideas for them. I’m excited to write, i’m praying i don’t burn out…hope you guys enjoy :) love ya’ll! also i am more active on twitter if you guys would like to follow me there, my link is in my masterpost!

THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL NEVER POST MY FICS ON OTHER TUMBLR BLOGS. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND ON AO3.

✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖ nsfw | minors dni | 18+ only | minors dni | nsfw ✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖

Spontaneity was not something Zayne preferred to indulge in.

He had enough of it in his hectic surgery schedule, so in his personal life he tried to keep things as predictable as possible.

Yet he was graced with an absolute menace of a girlfriend, who, from the second she walked into his life, created chaos in her wake. Always running off on faraway Hunter missions, telling him only after she’d already left. Coming back injured, with a frustratingly adorable and sheepish smile, trying, and failing, to convince him she was fine.

God, you drove him utterly insane.

Which is why now, the normally composed, self-assured, and controlled, chief cardiac surgeon was unraveling at the seams beneath your seemingly innocent touch.

“Why does it smell sweeter than usual?” Zayne’s voice is raspy and breathless from the torrid and heated kiss the two of you had just been locked in. The razor blade and shaving cream had long since been discarded and forgotten.

Before you can respond, he’s pulling your wrist towards his reddened face, making you fall on top of him from your seat on his lap. You’re left straddling his one knee as you fall forward. Your wrist grips the leather recliner cushion by his head to catch you as he cups your lower back, just above your rear, pressing your body deeper into his.

He nuzzles his face into your wrist that's planted beside his head, absolutely enraptured by the scent of your lotion. The scent of you.

Taking another deef lung full of your pheromones mixed with your fruity lotion, his intense hazel eyes desperately seek yours, like he’s conveying his desires with the golden green orbs. You open your mouth to question his unusual behavior, but Zayne’s one step ahead of you. His knee raises to push your backside towards him, making you lose your grip completely and collapse completely atop him.

The recliner chair swings wildly at your combined movements, and you find yourself struggling to steady yourself. In your brief moment of helplessness, Zayne hoists you towards him, burying his face into your chest. His lips find your collarbone instantly, his knee nestled between your thighs to help balance you.

You gasp at his tongue lapping languidly at your fragrant skin, your fingers grasping his shoulders as he sucks at your sensitive collar, no doubt leaving a bruise. His lips dance dangerously close to where your silk camisole hangs off the swell of your breasts.

“Are you taking a break from work?” you ask between your raspy pants. Zayne continues to indulge in your skin, moving lower until his face meets your hardened nipples, separated only by a thin layer of silk. His tongue softly brushes against the soft material of your top, stroking at the swollen peaks through the smooth fabric. His knee grinds into your thighs, craving the warmth and dampness of his most favorite place.

He has to physically pry himself away from your chest, a dusting of deep peach painting his flustered face.

“Do I look like I can work right now?” His question is simple, but the aggressive demand that hides underneath them is urgent, nearly feral. You don’t get a chance to get another word out before he’s sinking back into the warmth of your chest.

This time, his lips close over your entire nipple through the soft silk of your sleeping cami, making you cry out in surprise. Your fingers grip his hair as he absolutely devours you through your top, the silk dampening with his saliva. His teeth come down to graze your sensitive peaks and you have to push him back before you lose yourself to the pleasure.

“...You don’t have to be so intense,” you urge him, despite the clear and inarguable fact that you want more. Clear from the way the panties you’d slept in start to dampen against his bare knee that peeks out from his robe.

Zayne looks unamused, almost sulky, as he mutters, “No working, and not allowed to do anything else…” He looks up at you, mischief briefly flashing across his eyes

He sits up, wrapping his strong arm around your shoulder and bringing you to him in an intimate embrace. You flail forward at his sudden movements, the rocking of the recliner chair making it impossible to find any balance. He takes the opportunity to drive his knee deeper into your core, making you moan lewdly. His chin rests on your bare shoulder, words hot and breathy against your pulsing neck, “Well then…my love, what exactly do you allow me to do?”

His actions make it difficult for you to speak, brain focussing solely on the pleasure he’s both giving you and keeping from you. At your wordless moans of excitement, Zayne continues.

“Will you allow me to do this?” he rocks his knee deeper into you, effectively humping you against his leg. Your nails dig into his muscled back at the unexpected ecstasy, his knee rubbing against your clit in the most sinfully perfect ways.

Zayne hisses at the feeling of the sting of your nails, only making him more desperate to take you right there on his living room chair, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

With his lips at your neck, he slowly and torturously pulls the flimsy straps of your loose top down, until your breasts are pressing against his exposed chest underneath his luxurious bathrobe.

His hands descend to hold your waist firmly, gently pulling you away from his chest so his hungry mouth can find your soft breasts again.

You throw your head backwards when his warm and wet mouth captures your bare skin into its embrace. Zayne is absolutely relentless, bouncing you filthily on his thigh as he absolutely devours your breasts. His teeth and tongue work in tandem to suckle pretty little bruises into the swell of your chest, and around your pert nipples.

Zayne looks up at you from underneath his eyelashes, heated irises drinking in your quivering form atop him. His erection pushes against the feeble restraints of his tied robe, creating a tent in his lap that twitches with anticipation. It brushes against your stomach as he grinds his knee into you, giving him just enough friction to need to bite into your breast to hold back his desperate moans.

You cling to him, trusting him to take all control of your body and of your pleasure. Your nails continue to draw angry red welts into his back, as you feel the familiar coiling of ecstasy in your gut.

You tap desperately on his shoulders, not wanting to make a mess in your panties that are already sticking to your wet folds.

“Z-Zayne, wait I —”

He brings his thumb to your lips, pressing softly against your parted lips, all the while his own lips never leave your aching tits. Against them, he mumbles, “Don’t deny me. Please.”

You’re briefly snapped out of the mind numbing pleasure of your quickly approaching orgasm at the sound of his plea, bordering on a feral demand. It’s so rare to hear him so unraveled and desperate, to hear him demanding things from you. A man who never asked anything of anyone, especially not of you, the one person he treasured more than life itself. It’s so rare and raw that you can’t help but want to give him everything he wants.

You bury your face into the top of his head, his addicting scent invading your senses, and you kiss him gently, “Never, I would never deny you.”

Zayne inhales sharply, groaning at your sweet words, ”Good girl.” He pulls you down fully on top of him again, the leather chair reclining until it’s nearly flat. Your ass is arched into the air, your face pressed into his chest, as his knee pushes into you with renewed vigor.

His lips find themselves sucking urgently at your nipples again, his knee moving faster, wanting to see his beautiful girl come undone all over his thighs. His tongue lathers tortuous circles around your hardened and swollen peaks, soothing the areas in which his teeth bite down softly.

“Let me see you, love. Please. I haven’t gotten to feel you since you ran off into danger without telling me, again.”

Your heart clenched as you realized that was where all this desperation and vulnerability was coming from. You want to apologize, but his unforgiving knee against your weeping cunt made it nearly impossible to get the syllables out.

“I-I’m – nnghh – m’sorry.”

His hand roughly grabs your chin, turning you to level with his smoldering hazel eyes. His voice is gruff and inquisitive, eyebrows raised in doubt, “Are you, sweetheart?”

You whine at his words, his actions only becoming more relentless, as if forcing the responses he wants out of you, “I am!”

The corner of his lips curl up, so faint you can barely see it. An arrogance Zayne so rarely lets show.

“Then show me. Show me how sorry you are.” With each demand, his leg drives harshly into your clit. You nod vigorously, eager to please him.

His darkened green eyes cling to yours, his voice deceptively calm and soothing, “Say it, love.”

You want to respond but the way he’s punctuating his every word with a hard intentional thrust of his knee into your aching cunt makes it impossible to do anything but moan lewdly into his ear, your head hanging down with your hair falling over your eyes.

He pinches your abused nipple, guiding your eyes back to his demanding hazel ones, the golden flecks glowing brightly as they savor the sight of you.

“I-I’m – unghh – s-sorry. Should’ve told you. I’ll be good, just-just let me cum f’you!” You bury your face into his neck, embarrassed by the words coming out of your mouth but unable to stop them all the same.

“Let me see you,” he grunts. When you lift your head, bleary eyes fixing on his, he smiles. It's faint but effervescently warm.

“That’s my girl. Now tell me, hm? How is my beautiful girl going to make it up to me?”

Your eyes fill with tears, overwhelmed by the pleasure his knee brings you, and the raw feelings that are masked behind his lewd words. His facade of filthy demands that hide the suffocating emotions, the same emotions he’d felt when he saw your name on the list of hunters dispatched to the wanderer quarantine zone. Emotions that he was now taking out on your ever-so responsive body.

“Anything you want Zayne, anything,” you gasp, your eyes locked into his as he continues to hump his knee into you,

His breath catches audibly at your words, pulling your chin towards him to capture your lips in a raw and passionate kiss, one that felt like it might stop time and space as you knew it.

At his intensely possessive lips, his throaty demands, his insistent knee wedged into your cunt, it isn’t long before you come undone all over his knee. You cum with a strangled cry, your fingers digging crescents into his muscled shoulders. Your eyes squeeze shut at the feeling of the filthy dampness against the fabric of your panties. Zayne groans at the angelic sight of your face contorted into pure pleasure, his erection painfully hard against his silken robe, pressed into your quivering belly. The heavenly vision of you cumming was almost enough to have him erupting right against your stomach.

“That’s it my love, just like that,” Zayne coos as you cum over his knee, still rocking gently into you as he helps you ride out the waves of your ecstasy. His slender fingers rub soothing circles into the small of your back, cooling your burning skin.

“So good, so good for me,” he murmurs into your hair, your head resting on his shoulders as the post-orgasm tremors come and go. His lips press into your scalp, the moment feeling absolutely and idyllically perfect.

You’re so blissed out you almost don’t feel him shifting beneath you, slender fingers pulling your soaked panties to the side. It isn’t until you feel the all-too familiar feeling of his fat leaking cockhead nestled between your folds, right at the entrance to your most sensitive parts, that your bleary eyes open.

You watch him, cock in his fist, swiping up and down your drenched lips, head hung down in pleasure as he watches the way your pussy quite literally invites him in. A thin layer of sweat glistens on his furrowed forehead, his restraint hanging on by a thread as he tries to calm himself before he burrows into you like an absolute animal.

You grab him by his chin, guiding him to look up at you. You take his throbbing manhood into your own fingers, in place of his. He stares at you heatedly, your languid actions driving him to the edge of insanity. Your body quivers as his cockhead catches on your clit, your body still reeling from the orgasm you’d just experienced on his knee.

Zayne’s hand encompasses yours, your joined palms holding his aching cock at the base. He repeats his plea from earlier, his voice raspy and breathless, “Show me.”

His desperation makes you bite your lip in anticipation, and you nod before sinking down onto his thick member. Your body grapples with the stretch as you slide further and further down, as Zayne writhes below you, panting rapidly and fingers digging into your waist.

“You’re so damn perfect,” he rasps, fingers bruising your hips with the intensity in which they grab you, “Give me more, please love.”

You grin at his rare pleas, teasing him by stopping halfway, not letting him enter you fully. His desperate moans and grunts make you giggle, and you relish in the way his large hands hold you so possessively, in the way only you are able to make him lose control.

Zayne chuckles darkly at your teasing antics, “You don’t sound very apologetic, sweetheart.” He raises his eyebrow at you, in a playful warning. You open your mouth to speak, but it’s cut off with a scream when he slams you down on his thick length, his strong grip pulling you down until your ass meets his thighs.

The impact of your thighs against Zayne’s lap is sinful. Zayne groans at the way he can feel the globes of your ass shake against him, your pussy clenching to accommodate the sudden stretch. And Zayne doesn’t even let you ride him, instead using the raw strength of his arms and thighs to bob you up and down his length, in a rhythm that had you seeing white.

“Nnghh – P-Please Zayne!” you plead, but for what you’re not even sure. You certainly don’t want him to stop or slow down. Your arms wrap around his shoulders, holding on while he bounces you like you weigh absolutely nothing.

Zayne grunts in response, too lost in the feeling of how your walls cling to him, how your body responds to his touch and thrusts like he owns you.

“Always — hah — throwing yourself — fuck! — into danger. Without telling me,” he grits out, his thrusts into you harsh and passionate all at the same time. You can tell by his tone that he’s more hurt than he is angry about you running off to the frontlines of a nearby wanderer quarantine. The deep timbre of his voice conveys more worry and vulnerability than it does domination and accusation.

Your heart flutters at how adorably pouty Zayne was being, in his own way. It was rare for him to act on his emotions like this, and it reminded you of how far the two of you had come. His hands gripped you forcibly, almost as if he was afraid you’d disappear on him again. His face buried into your chest, savoring your intoxicating scent like it was the air he needed to survive. The way your warm plush skin tasted on his tongue and felt against his canines.

So you let him throw you around like a fucktoy, letting him feel how absolutely and irrevocably his, you were. You held him tightly to your chest, kissing the shell of his ear as he rutted into you like a madman, suckling on your breasts like he thought you might lactate for him. The blend of possessive domination and raw neediness was driving you insane.

Zayne tears himself away from your chest, looking up at you with heated expectation, his eyes hazy with animalistic desire, “Nothing to say, Y/N?” He punctuates his question with a harsh thrust that prods against your g-spot, all the way to your cervix.

You gasp out, almost choking for air, “M’sorry Zayne. I-I’ll make it up t’y-you.” His fingers grip you tighter as he relentlessly bounces you on his lap, his fat cock bullying into your g spot. Your teeth dig into your lip as you feel your cunt trembling, close to release.

Zayne nestles his face into the area where your neck meets your collarbone, gasping out as you get increasingly tighter, until it feels like he’s suffocating with pleasure.

“Let me cum in you,” he growls, moving back to your chest, nipping at the swell of your breasts, lapping at a reddened bruise he’d unwittingly left there. Zayne normally wasn’t keen on these juvenile displays of affection, leaving hickeys like a horny highschooler. But something about the way you constantly threw yourself into the face of danger for others, left him uncharacteristically uncontrollable and unrestrained.

“Let me leave my mark in you so you know better than to go running off into danger without me again.”

A string of whimpers escapes your mouth at his possessive yet sensitive words, clearly still miffed at the memory of your injured state after saving the pair of young siblings in the quarantine zone. Your talented, self-controlled, god-like surgeon, falling apart at the seams, for you.

It’s all enough to have you at the cusp of another mind-bending orgasm, your eyes rolling up as you try to warn him, “Z-Zayne, c-close.”

Zayne chuckles as you warn him. How adorable you were to think he needed to be told, as if he didn’t know your body like the back of his hand. That he couldn’t feel the telltale way your pussy pulsed and quivered around his cock, so tightly it threatened to break him.

“Look at me, my love. I need to see you.” He rams up into you, hands possessively on your hips, bringing you down forcefully with each upward thrust. You focus your eyes on him, eyelids hooded with an exhausted pleasure.

Through your blurry vision, you can see that Zayne is close too. His jaw ticks dangerously, teeth grit to hold the swears back. His golden emerald eyes meet yours, and he smiles, his fingers threading into the back of your head.

“Just like that, look at me when you cum,” he demands, pulling your face forward to capture your lips in a final kiss that would have you tumbling down the cliff of ecstasy. His tongue demands entry, teasing the seam of your lips. His fingers cup your face, thumb stroking your cheekbone.

You moan into his mouth as your body succumbs to yet another orgasm, your fingernails scraping into his back. Zayne groans into you as the sting of your nails against his skin intensifies the pleasure of your pussy practically wringing his cock dry, forcing the orgasm out of him.

It’s a passionate and furious gnashing of tongue and skin, his thighs, wet with your release, pounding up into you. Your combined whimpers of pleasure mix with the wet smacks of your ass against his thighs, creating the most sinful blanket of lust-filled ecstasy in Zayne’s living room.

His seed erupts inside you, hot, plenty, and demanding. Demanding to be inside you. Demanding to claim you.

Zayne’s thrusts slow, but don’t stop, plugging you completely full of him. He finally pulls away from your lips, breathing heavily as goosebumps of overstimulation litter his skin. He keeps going until you tap his shoulders in surrender. He chuckles, lifting you easily off of him, removing himself from you.

Your thighs quiver as you remain seated on Zayne’s lap, his fingers rubbing delicate circles on your waist. His lips brush gentle kisses on your collar, savoring the moment of intimacy and adoration that falls over the two of you.

Zayne shifts so that he can look at you, cupping your chin gently in his fingers.

“How are you feeling Y/N?” His deep voice is filled with concern, eyes searching yours, “Was I too…enthusiastic?”

You giggle tiredly, your voice filled with playful teasing, “Maybe a bit. But I loved it. I love you.”

Zayne chuckles, bringing your face back down to rest on his chest, his bare skin peeking through the robe that had become untied amidst all the movement. He cradles your head against his body, his arms secure and protective against you, his lips pressing kisses into the top of your head.

“Can you blame me?” He presses his lips into the space below your ear, leaving a trail of kissing down your neck and along your shoulders.

“When you’re constantly worried about the woman you love…it can leave one a bit pent up.”

His lips on your singed skin has you shivering against him, your fingers trailing up and down his chest, “And are you still…pent up?”

The corner of Zayne’s lips quirk up, the blood rushing back south as he feels you writhe against his most fleeting touches. Always so responsive to his touch.

Zayne uses one hand to guide your chin up towards him, his smile hungry and affectionate all at the same time. His other hand holds yours, and you jolt off his chest when he wraps your fingers around something wet, hot, and hard.

“You could say that.”

.ᐟ✧ THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND AO3. i am not @/aeyumicores or @/aeyumiicore or any variations of my blog name.

✧.˖ i do not permit translations or reposts of my work on tumblr, ao3, or others. please do not reuse my blogpost headers, dividers, or layouts. these are original designs of my own.

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cressidagrey · 2 months ago

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White Horse - Chapter 24: June 2024 - Part 5

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Isabelle Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

Max Verstappen is a World Champion. Isabelle Leclerc is invisible.

She watched her family give up everything for Charles’ career—Arthur’s karting, their father’s savings, even her childhood horse. She understood. She never asked for more.

But Max does. He notices the things no one else does, listens when no one else will, and puts her first in ways she never imagined. With him, she isn’t an afterthought—she’s a choice. And for the first time, she realizes she doesn’t have to be invisible.

Warnings and Notes:

we have now moved on from Charles bashing to bashing his whole family, Discussions of toxic past relationships, talk about loosing a childhood pet, toxic families, mention of the loss of a parent.

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

Meanwhile on Twitter:

@/F1TeaSpiller: GUYS. BELLE LECLERC JUST CHANGED HER INSTAGRAM USERNAME. SHE'S NOW @/belleverstappen. I REPEAT. @/belleverstappen.

🔗 (screenshot)

@/MonacoRoyalty: WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT

@/RedBullTroll33: So you’re telling me… Isabelle. LECLERC. is now VERSTAPPEN?????

I need to lie down.

@/FerrariF1Pain: I THOUGHT I WAS HALLUCINATING WHEN I SAW THE NAME CHANGE. SHE REALLY MARRIED MAX. AND THEY DIDN’T TELL A SOUL. ICONIC BEHAVIOR TBH.

@/F1MemeLord: Charles: forgot Belle’s birthday Belle: changed her last name to Verstappen in front of the entire internet Me: poetic cinema.

@/gridgossip:

EVERYONE WAKE UP

BELLE LECLERC IS NOW BELLE VERSTAPPEN

MAX MARRIED CHARLES' SISTER AND DIDN'T TELL ANYONE

IM SHAKING

@/gridgossip:

This is the softest, coldest, most brutal reveal of all time.

No announcement.

No photo dump.

No grand post.

Just a silent name change.

And now the whole grid is screaming.

@/f1memequeen: MAX VERSTAPPEN SECRETLY MARRIED CHARLES LECLERC’S BABY SISTERAND THEY SOFT LAUNCHED WITH A HORSE AND A USERNAME UPDATE

THIS IS CINEMA.

@/F1ChaosClub: how it started: "whose hand gave max tea on stream??"

how it's going: "max verstappen is married to belle leclerc and nobody knew and now the internet is on fire"

@/TifosiTears: charles leclerc is about to log on and have the worst 24 hours of his life i fear 💀

@/MaxIsWinning: max verstappen winning on and off the track as per usual 😌

@/WifeGuyMax: max verstappen, known cat dad and now confirmed wife guy. we love character development 💍🐎🐈

@/GridChaosDaily: the grid when they realize belle verstappen = belle leclerc = max’s wife = charles’s sister = absolute chaos

(photo attached: stock photo of a man having a breakdown)

@/FerrariTears: Charles finding out his sister is now Belle Verstappen because of Instagram is the level of sibling drama we deserve in 2024.

@/TifosiMess: Prediction:

Charles: 🧍‍♂️😭

Arthur: 🧍‍♂️😵‍💫

Lorenzo: 🧍‍♂️😳

Pascale: 🧍‍♀️🫠 Meanwhile Belle and Max: 🏇🏡❤️

@/MonacoRoyalty: So let me get this straight:

Belle disappears for weeks

Drops a horse like it’s a handbag

Soft launches her new life

NOW SHE'S A VERSTAPPEN?? I NEED TO LIE DOWN.

@/LandoSimp44: some of you OWE the soft launch detectives an apology. they said it. they were RIGHT.

@/RedBullUpdates MAX. VERSTAPPEN. MARRIED. BELLE. LECLERC. AND THEY HID IT FROM US FOR HOW LONG???

@/FerrariPain: the way the Leclerc brothers are probably finding this out at the SAME TIME AS US 😭😭😭

***

Group Chat: HELP ME

(Members: Daniel Ricciardo, Lando Norris, Oscar Piastri, Lewis Hamilton, Carlos Sainz Jr., George Russell, Alex Albon, Nico Hulkenberg, Nico Rosberg, Sebastian Vettel, Mark Webber, David Coulthard, Sergio Pérez, Fernando Alonso, Kimi Räikkönen, Zhou Guanyu, Logan Sergeant, Esteban Ocon, Lance Stroll and Valtteri Bottas)

Lando: HOLY SH*T

Lando: HOLD ON

Lando: SHUT UP EVERYONE

Lando: sends screenshot of @belleverstappen

Oscar: OH MY GOD

Daniel: I AM SCREAMING INTO A PILLOW

Lewis: I’m sorry. Am I hallucinating?? Because that says Verstappen. Not Leclerc.

George: BELLE. VERSTAPPEN. BELLE. FREAKING. VERSTAPPEN.

Carlos: Belle… changed her name…

Zhou: I THOUGHT I WAS READY BUT I WAS NOT READY

George: DID THAT JUST HAPPEN LIVE???

Carlos: I need a drink.

Alex: I AM SCREAMING.

Sebastian: Honestly? About time. Good for her.

Oscar: SHE CHANGED HER USERNAME TO BELLE VERSTAPPEN. THAT'S IT. THAT'S THE ANNOUNCEMENT.

Fernando: Max said "no press release, no statement, just pure chaos."

Daniel: Can we talk about the absolute audacity???

Zhou: Max dropping "I’m married" casually during a press conference and Belle changing her name quietly the night before Spain is PEAK Verstappen behavior.

Lando: I’m gonna cry. She’s not even dramatic about it. Just boop name change.

George: Meanwhile Charles is somewhere punching a wall.

Carlos: somewhere? Try several walls.

Lewis: No but seriously—Belle just silently won the whole internet.

Logan: It’s not even loud drama. It’s silent nuclear bomb energy.

Nico R.: Charles is probably Googling "how to politely kidnap your sister back."

Checo: Max playing 4D chess while Charles plays Candy Crush.

Fernando: And still losing at Candy Crush.

Kimi: Wake me up when someone crashes a press conference about it.

Oscar: Okay but real talk. I’m SO proud of her.

Lando: Same.

Lewis: She chose her happiness over their comfort. Respect.

Esteban: Someone check on Charles.

Fernando: No, no, let him suffer a bit longer. Character development.

Lance: Wait does this mean Max is Charles’ BROTHER-IN-LAW now???

Oscar: i just had a full body shiver

David: I would pay so much money for footage of Fred Vasseur reading this right now.

Mark: I would pay more to see Christian Horner's face.

George: NO ONE TELL PIERRE. Let’s just see what happens.

Logan: What if Belle walks into the paddock tomorrow wearing Verstappen merch. I would pass away.

Lewis: Max really married the one girl Charles forgot to look at properly. Poetic.

Nico R.: This is better than any soap opera I’ve ever seen.

Sebastian: Not Max breaking Ferrari and Leclerc family morale in one move. That’s championship material.

Oscar: Belle really said "forget my birthday? Watch this."

Carlos: Reminder: Max said he’s bringing her to the paddock tomorrow.

George: THEY’RE GOING PUBLIC IN PERSON TOO???

Oscar: CHAOS. COMPLETE CHAOS.

Alex: I have popcorn ready.

Lando: I'm not ready.

Daniel: None of us are.

***

Charles didn’t mean to open Instagram.

It had become a form of self-torture lately—every scroll a reminder of the silence on the other end of his unanswered texts, of the messages left on read, of the birthday that no one in the family had remembered except Belle herself.

But his thumb moved on autopilot during breakfast, and there it was.

Not a post. Not a story.

A name.

@belleverstappen

Charles blinked. Froze. Then blinked again.

No. That couldn’t be right.

He opened her profile.

Same photos. His sister’s profile.

Charles stared at the screen.

Then he read the handle again.

@belleverstappen.

Verstappen.

A cold sweat started to gather at the back of his neck.

“Non… non non non…” Charles muttered, sitting bolt upright in his chair.

Across the hotel room, Alexandra looked up from her hair straightener. “What now?”

“Arthur,” he said, too sharp, holding his phone up like it was infected. “Look at this.”

Arthur, still halfway through a bowl of cereal, leaned over and squinted. He choked immediately.

“No. No, no, no. She didn’t.”

“She did!” Charles said, nearly tripping over his chair. “She changed her name!”

Arthur shoved his cereal away like it had personally betrayed him. “Wait—what does that mean? Did she get married? Wait, is this real?”

“What does it mean?” Charles asked, genuinely baffled. “Why would she—what—Why Verstappen?”

And then, like a bolt of catastrophic lightning:

“Oh my god. Is Jos Verstappen her sugar daddy??”

A sound of pure horror came from behind him.

“CHARLES!” Alexandra snapped. “What the hell?!”

Arthur looked like he had been personally insulted by the sentence. “Are you out of your mind?”

“I’m just saying—Verstappen! She’s going by Verstappen!”

Charles was already pacing. “She was always weirdly polite to Jos. Maybe he—maybe it’s him.He’s always lurking around the paddock! And she moved out a year ago and never told us. She quit her job. Someone’s clearly supporting her!”

Arthur looked horrified. “Charles. Please. That’s insane.”

Alexandra looked at Charles like he’d grown a second head. “You do realize Jos Verstappen is married, right? Like, currently. Publicly. Has been for years.”

“I saw her smile at Jos in Monaco!” Charles snapped. “And she said he was polite to her at the garage and she’s been so—so secretive and she quit her job and she got a horse—”

“CHARLES,” Alexandra interrupted, hands in the air. “Jos Verstappen is married.”

Charles blinked. “What?”

Arthur groaned and threw a pillow across the room. “Oh my god. This is actually the stupidest conclusion you’ve reached this month, and I was the one that thought Belle was being kept by a sugar daddy with a skincare routine.”

“IT MAKES SENSE AT THE TIME,” Charles insisted.

There was a knock, and Nicholas Todt stepped into the room, holding his tablet with the solemn expression of a man walking into a fire.

“Tell me this is not real,” Nicholas said, holding up a screenshot of Belle’s Instagram page.

“Oh, it’s real,” Arthur said, grimacing.

“Charles, please tell me this is not the first time you’re hearing about this.”

Charles opened and closed his mouth.

Nicholas pinched the bridge of his nose and sat down heavily. “This is a PR disaster. If the media connects her to Max—”

“Wait,” Charles said slowly. “Why would the media connect her to Max?”

Everyone turned.

“You’re joking,” Alexandra said.

“What?” Charles asked, defensive.

“She changed her name to Verstappen,” Nicolas deadpanned. “What do you think it is?”

“She can’t be married to Max!” Charles blurted. “Someone would’ve told me!”

Joris, who had been quiet until now, finally looked up from his coffee with the most satisfied look on his face.

Joris shrugged. “Good for her.”

Charles stared. “Good for—what?”

“She’s been invisible to all of you for years,” Joris said bluntly. “And now she’s making herself seen. About damn time.”

Charles looked between them all, suddenly feeling like he was at the center of a soap opera everyone else had watched already.

“No,” he whispered. “It can’t be Max.”

Arthur looked vaguely nauseous. Joris looked like he had several things to say and none of them were polite.

Charles could feel the room closing in. “This is not happening.”

“I actually thought it might be Zhou,” Alexandra said mildly. “Or Lewis. They’re both polite. Hot. Emotionally intelligent.”

“Okay, please stop talking,” Charles groaned.

Arthur sat down beside him. “Do you think she’ll be at the paddock tomorrow?”

“If she shows up wearing Verstappen gear, I’m gonna throw myself in the gravel,” Charles muttered.

Alexandra raised an eyebrow. “No, you’re going to smile, and wave, and act like a supportive brother who didn’t forget she existed.”

"Max," he repeated dumbly. "Max Verstappen. My biggest rival. The guy who stole my karting trophies when we were twelve."

Arthur shrugged. "Apparently, he didn’t just steal your trophies."

Alexandra smirked behind her hand.

Nicolas rubbed his temples like he had a migraine.

Charles sat down heavily in the nearest chair, completely and utterly defeated.

Belle was married. To Max Verstappen. And the whole world knew.

Everyone except him.

She hadn’t said a word.

She’d just changed her name.

And somehow, that said everything.

****

Text Messages: Arthur Leclerc & Lorenzo Leclerc

Arthur: hey you up?

Lorenzo: I am now. What’s going on?

Arthur: don’t freak out but we need to tell maman something before she finds out from the internet

Lorenzo: Arthur. Tell me now.

Arthur: Isabelle changed her Instagram username. It’s belleverstappen now.

Lorenzo: … what.

Arthur: like not “dating” Verstappen not “soft launch” Verstappen I mean she married him she’s married like legally. emotionally. spiritually. all of it.

Lorenzo: What do you MEAN she’s married to Max Verstappen?! When?! How?! WHY didn’t we KNOW?!

Arthur: because we were all too busy forgetting her birthday and ignoring her for years? just a theory. 🙃

Lorenzo: Jesus Christ. Does Charles know?

Arthur: not until like five minutes ago. he thought she was dating JOS I’m not kidding.

Lorenzo: … of course he did.

Arthur: look can you please talk to maman like right now because the whole paddock is going to know soon and if she sees this online first she’s going to cry and then go full French Catholic guilt spiral and none of us are emotionally prepared for that

Lorenzo: On it.

Arthur: thank you.

Good luck

***

Group Chat: GRID 2024

Members: Max Verstappen, Charles Leclerc, Carlos Sainz Jr., Lando Norris, Oscar Piastri, Lewis Hamilton, George Russell, Alex Albon, Logan Sergeant, Daniel Ricciardo, Nico Hülkenberg, Lance Stroll, Fernando Alonso, Sergio Pérez, Esteban Ocon, Zhou Guanyu, Logan Sargeant, Pierre Gasly, Yuki Tsunoda, and Valtteri Bottas

Charles: MAX. ANSWER YOUR PHONE.

Charles: TELL ME THIS ISN’T TRUE. TELL ME THIS IS SOME STUPID INTERNET RUMOUR. MAX. DID YOU MARRY MY SISTER?

Max: Yes.

Charles: AND YOU LET ME WALK AROUND THE PADDOCK FOR WEEKS LIKE AN IDIOT.

Max: We got married in Monaco. She wanted to keep it private.

Charles: YOU GOT MARRIED AND YOU DIDN’T TELL ME??

Charles: YOU DIDN’T THINK I DESERVED TO KNOW THAT MY BABY SISTER WAS MARRYING MY BIGGEST RIVAL??

Pierre: wait wait wait what do you mean married Isabelle???

Yuki: SOMEONE EXPLAIN WHAT IS HAPPENING

Carlos: Charles—

Charles: HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN TOGETHER? HOW LONG HAS THIS BEEN A THING??

Carlos: Over a year.

Charles: I’M GOING TO SCREAM.

Charles: I’m going to absolutely LOSE MY MIND. You’ve all been lying to me. For MONTHS.

Charles: WHO KNEW?? I WANT A FULL LIST. RIGHT NOW. I SWEAR I WILL GO THROUGH PHONE RECORDS.

Lewis: It wasn’t our secret to tell.

George: They weren’t hiding it to hurt you. They were protecting each other.

Lando: Also, you literally forgot her birthday. You don’t exactly have the moral high ground here.

Charles: SHE’S MY SISTER.

Max: She’s my wife. Stop yelling like you own her.

Charles: SHE’S FAMILY.

Max: This isn’t about you, Charles.

Charles: SHE IS MY SISTER. MY FAMILY. AND NONE OF YOU THOUGHT I MIGHT WANT TO KNOW SHE MARRIED SOMEONE WHO’S BEEN TRYING TO BEAT ME SINCE KARTING.

Oscar: She didn’t forget to tell you. She chose not to.

Charles: SHUT UP, OSCAR.

Carlos: Hey.

Charles: NO. YOU TOO. YOU REMEMBERED HER BIRTHDAY. AND YOU SAID NOTHING.

Carlos: Because she asked me to. Because she knew you’d react exactly like this.

Charles: SO MY SISTER MARRIES MAX VERSTAPPEN AND I’M THE VILLAIN??

Max: You remember that now?

Charles: You think this is funny?

Max: No. I think it’s sad. That it took a ring on her finger and a horse on Instagram for you to realize she was gone.

Charles: You went behind my back. You should have told me.

Max: She didn’t want to. And I respect her choices. Which is more than I can say for you.

Charles: I’M HER BROTHER.

Max: Then maybe act like it. Because right now? You’re just noise.

George: Charles, this isn’t about you anymore.

Alex: It’s about Belle. And how she had to build a new life because her old one didn’t see her.

Oscar: And Max did.

Max:If you're done shouting, maybe try asking yourself why she trusted me with her future and not you.

Charles: …

Yuki: can someone please give me a recap. i feel like i skipped six seasons.

Pierre: I JUST FOUND OUT HE MARRIED HER AND NOW HE’S DRAGGING CHARLES INTO THE VOID I NEED TO LIE DOWN

Daniel: someone get Pierre a fan, he’s hyperventilating.

Charles: EVERYONE SHUT UP. EVERYONE JUST STOP.

Charles: I’M FINDING HER. SHE’S AT THE TRACK, RIGHT? I’M FINDING HER RIGHT NOW.

Lewis: Charles.

Charles: WHAT.

Lewis: Do not ambush her. You don’t get to demand explanations from someone you forgot how to see.

Charles: I DIDN’T—

George: You forgot her birthday, Charles.

Oscar: You didn’t notice when she moved. You didn’t notice when she quit her job. You didn’t notice when she stopped showing up to family events.

Carlos: You didn’t notice her.

Charles: I just want to talk to her.

Max: Then wait until she’s ready. You’ve taken a lot of things from her, Charles. You don’t get to take this, too.

Charles: You don’t get to talk to me about what I’ve taken.

Max: No? Then let me talk to you about what you didn’t give her.

Max: Time. Attention. Respect. Support.

Max: All the things she gave you without question. All the things you never gave back.

Yuki: i’m so uncomfortable but also very invested

Pierre: i feel like we should log off

Charles: ...is anyone going to back me up here?

Esteban: You kind of lost the moral high ground at “is she dating Jos.”

Logan: ngl we all knew but we also knew you’d react like this.

Lewis: This isn’t about us. It’s about her. You need to let her decide if and when she wants to let you back in.

Charles: She’s my sister.

Max: She’s my wife.

Max: And if you ever want a place in her life again, maybe start by realizing you don’t get to gatekeep her happiness.

Carlos: Max. Enough.

Max: I’m done.

The rest is up to her.

Not me.

And sure as hell not you.

***

Pascale Leclerc had always prided herself on knowing her children.

She had lived through the chaos of karting and exam seasons, through Arthur’s scraped knees and Charles’ broken hearts, through Lorenzo’s silent strength and Isabelle’s quiet brilliance.

She had watched them grow up like a garden — each one different, wild in their own way, but hers.

And yet now, as she stood in her kitchen — untouched tea cooling in her hands — she felt like she was staring at a house that had quietly caught fire.

And she hadn’t even smelled the smoke.

Lorenzo stood by the doorway, tense but calm in that way only he could be.

He had always been the family’s voice of reason, the one who didn’t panic, who showed up with logistics when the others brought emotions.

But tonight, there was something sharp beneath his composure. A tightness around the mouth. A shadow in his voice.

“Something happened,” Pascale had said, the moment he arrived.

Lorenzo didn’t answer right away.

He looked at her — really looked at her — like he wasn’t sure how to begin. Like he was about to hand her a truth that couldn’t be unspoken.

“Isabelle got married,” he said quietly.

The words didn’t register at first. Not fully.

They sat in the air, strange and unfamiliar, like hearing a sentence in a language she hadn’t spoken in years.

“What?” Pascale asked, blinking.

“Isabelle,” Lorenzo said again, slowly. “She got married. A few weeks ago. In Monaco.”

Her breath caught.

“To who?”

Lorenzo hesitated. “Max Verstappen.”

The name hit harder than the sentence.

Pascale lowered herself into the nearest chair like her legs no longer trusted her.

“She’s… married,” she said, tasting the word. “To Max. And we didn’t even know?”

Lorenzo sat across from her. “We didn’t even know she was in a relationship, Maman. We didn’t know she moved. That she quit her job. We didn’t know anything.”

Pascale stared at the table, at her own hands folded around a now-cold mug.

It was her fault.

Hers.

Because she had believed silence meant peace. She had assumed that just because Isabelle didn’t complain, she was content.

And in doing so, she had let her daughter disappear. Slowly. Quietly. Without fanfare.

“She didn’t want us to know?” Pascale asked, voice small.

“No,” Lorenzo said gently. “Because we’ve given her every reason to believe we only care when it’s convenient. When it’s public. When it’s about Charles.”

Pascale felt her eyes sting. “I thought… I thought she would come to me, if it was serious.”

“She did,” Lorenzo said, not unkindly. “She just stopped waiting for us to see her.”

Pascale pressed a hand over her mouth.

“I didn’t even know she still believed in love,” she whispered. “After everything we asked her to give up. After everything we never gave back.”

“She did,” Lorenzo said. “And he gives it to her.”

Silence stretched between them — thick with guilt and revelation.

“I missed her wedding,” Pascale said softly.

“We all did,” Lorenzo replied. “But we don’t have to miss everything else.”

Pascale’s hand trembled as she set the tea aside. It sloshed slightly over the rim — unnoticed.

“I missed her wedding,” she repeated, more to herself than to Lorenzo.

He didn’t speak. He knew better than to offer hollow comfort.

“I missed her,” Pascale whispered. “I missed everything.”

The silence sat heavy between them, stretching until it felt like a second skin. Pascale reached for her phone on the table — out of habit, out of desperation — and stared at the screen like it might offer her redemption.

A single name burned in her memory.

Isabelle.

Her thumb hovered, hesitating over old messages, until finally, she opened the thread.

It was all still there. Every breadcrumb of her failure.

Ma chérie… I didn’t realise. I thought I messaged you, but I sent it to Charles by mistake. That’s not an excuse. You deserved more. Always. Please let me come see you. I miss you.

Even reading it now, Pascale felt the shame wash through her like floodwater.

It was a lie. She had forgotten.

Not just the day. Not just the message.

She had forgotten her daughter — in the way that mattered most.

“I lied to her,” Pascale said aloud, her voice cracking.

Lorenzo closed his eyes like he was bracing for a storm. “Maman…”

“When I messaged her,” Pascale said, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. “After I forgot her birthday. I didn’t want her to think I forgot. I told her I meant to text her — that I accidentally sent it to Charles instead. But that wasn’t true. I did. I forgot. I forgot the day she was born. And then I lied because I couldn’t bear the thought of her knowing that. I didn’t remember until Charles reminded us. I lied to make it seem like I hadn’t failed her. But I did. I have. Over and over again.”

Lorenzo’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t interrupt.

“I told myself she was strong. That she didn’t need as much,” Pascale continued, tears now slipping freely down her cheeks. “She didn’t fight for attention. She didn’t make noise. She just… quietly endured. I thought that meant she was fine.”

“She wasn’t,” Lorenzo said softly.

“I know that now,” Pascale whispered. “But it’s too late to be there for the little girl who cried when we sold her horse. Or the young woman who spent her graduation alone because we were all watching a race.”

Pascale looked up, eyes brimming.

“But maybe it’s not too late for the woman she’s become. The one who found someone who sees her. Who loves her enough to ask for her forever, even when she felt invisible.”

Lorenzo nodded slowly. “You’ll have to show her. Not just say it.”

“I don’t even know if she’ll want to hear from me,” Pascale said.

“You’ll try anyway,” he replied. “Because that’s what she deserved all along. Someone who didn’t need a reminder to show up.”

The air shifted slightly — still heavy, still painful, but no longer suffocating.

Pascale exhaled shakily and picked up her phone again.

“I want to fix it,” Pascale said eventually. “I don’t know how, but I want to try. I don’t want her to think we only care now because she married someone famous.”

“Then don’t start with an apology for missing the wedding,” Lorenzo said, voice low but steady. “Start with an apology for everything before it.”

***

Group Chat: HELP ME

Lando: (sends screenshots)

Lando: okay so we all agree that was… A Lot™?

George: “Then maybe act like it.” Cold. Accurate. Deserved.

Lewis: I was hoping Charles would reflect Not double down on the yelling and gaslighting

Carlos: He kept yelling “SHE’S MY SISTER” like it was a spell It’s not. It’s just a fact. And not one he treated with care.

Zhou: I’m honestly mad at him. Belle deserved better than that meltdown.

Daniel: She’s been waving white flags for YEARS. The fact that she had to marry Max Verstappen for him to finally notice is… tragic.

Logan: He tried to make it all about himself. Again.

Esteban: And he really told Max “you went behind my back” like Belle is property

Sebastian: Disrespectful. Self-centered. Deflecting guilt into rage. I like Charles. But this? This was ugly.

Lance: You could see the second-hand shame through the screen

Valtteri: Honestly, I don’t blame Max for losing patience.

Nico R.: He gave Charles every opportunity to calm down. Charles chose violence.

Oscar: “Which is more than I can say for you.” Yeah. That line still lives in my head.

Fernando: Max protected her. Period. Charles tried to make it about rivalry. One of them is married. The other is playing victim.

Mark: I love when people forget that Max is scary when he loves someone Not just when he races

David: Charles thought the betrayal was the secret The real betrayal is that she stopped counting on him, and he never noticed

George: And now he’s blaming everyone except himself.

Lando: What exactly did he expect? That she’d send a save-the-date and beg for attention?

Lewis: She already did. Every time she showed up and got ignored.

Sebastian: She didn’t disappear. She just stopped asking to be seen.

Alex: And I’m done coddling Charles about that.

Carlos: Same.

Oscar: She chose happiness. He called it betrayal. That says everything.

Zhou: Should we be worried about today?

Daniel: We should be prepared. Max said he’s bringing her to the paddock. And Charles? He’ll implode.

Fernando: Let him. Maybe he’ll finally listen if it’s in public.

Lewis: He doesn’t deserve answers. He deserves the silence he gave her.

George: And if she does say anything to him, it’s her choice.

***

Belle had never liked the paddock.

Not because it wasn’t impressive — it was. Efficient, loud, organized chaos. But because it had never really felt like hers. Not even when Charles had brought her around as a teenager, wide-eyed and silent, watching her brothers shake hands and pose for cameras while she trailed two steps behind.

She knew how invisible you could be in a place like this.

But not today.

Not now.

She stepped through the gates with Max beside her — her fingers laced in his, steady and certain — and the hush that fell over the paddock was immediate.

Belle could feel it.

The weight of eyes. The slow, sharp recognition rippling outward from person to person like a silent explosion. Some turned to look, others tried not to, but they all felt it. The shift. The fact that something had changed.

That she had changed.

Max didn’t break stride. Neither did she.

The sun was warm on her shoulders, but the Red Bull jacket she wore — his, oversized and soft — felt like armor. Familiar. Safe. She’d tugged it from his closet that morning while he was brushing his teeth, said nothing as she slipped it on, and Max had only smiled at her like she was everything in the world worth looking at.

He hadn’t let go of her hand since.

Belle didn’t smile, but she didn’t flinch either.

She looked ahead, chin high, expression calm. If they wanted something loud — a statement, a spectacle — they weren’t going to get it.

They’d get this.

Her wedding band catching the light. Her hand in Max’s. Her name — Belle Verstappen — already echoing through the internet.

Let them talk.

She heard someone near the McLaren garage whisper, “Oh my god, it’s really her.” Heard another murmur, “She’s wearing his jacket.”

Belle didn’t look. She didn’t have to.

She could feel the stares. Could feel the quiet scramble of the media trying to decide whether or not to speak. To ask. To breathe.

She kept walking.

Max leaned in slightly, barely tilting his head toward her, and said under his breath, “Still with me?”

Belle’s lips curved — just slightly. “Always.”

His thumb brushed along the side of her hand in response. The smallest touch. But enough.

They moved through the paddock like a weather system — calm on the surface, but electric underneath. Some drivers straightened up when they passed. Some looked away. One engineer dropped their tablet. Someone near the Ferrari garage gasped.

Belle didn’t look toward it.

She didn’t need to see Charles to know he was watching.

She could feel it — that specific burn of a sibling’s shock, of betrayal, of too-late recognition. And it hurt, somewhere deep in her chest. But it didn’t undo her.

Not this time.

Max gave her fingers a gentle squeeze.

She kept walking.

Every step felt like reclaiming something. Every heartbeat steadier than the last.

Let them stare. Let them wonder.

They hadn’t seen her before. They hadn’t heard her.

Now they would.

Quietly. Unapologetically.

This was her life.

And Belle Verstappen wasn’t hiding anymore.

***

@/GridGossip: 🚨BREAKING: BELLE VERSTAPPEN JUST WALKED INTO THE PADDOCK HOLDING MAX’S HAND She’s wearing his jacket An emerald engagement ring And a gold wedding band I’m shaking. I’m actually shaking. 📸 (zoomed photo)

@/F1TeaSpiller: Forget soft launches. Belle Verstappen just HARD LAUNCHED HER ENTIRE MARRIAGE That’s a wedding ring, babes. A wedding ring.

@/RedBullTroll33: Max Verstappen didn’t post a wedding photo. Didn’t do an announcement. Just walked into the paddock with his wife wearing a rock the size of my student debt. Power move.

@/FerrariF1Pain: The Leclerc family watching Belle walk in like: 👁👄👁 With a RING With MAX In his jacket Wearing the smirk of a woman who’s been underrated for too long

@/f1memequeen: That emerald engagement ring is screaming “I don’t need your approval, I already have his last name” And honestly?? Obsessed.

@/WifeGuyMax: Everyone: when will Max post Belle? Max: I’ll bring Belle. Max: To the paddock. Max: With a gold band on her finger. Max: Say hello to my wife.

@/GridChaosDaily: Belle is wearing a gold wedding band and an engagement ring the size of a walnut and hasn’t blinked once Meanwhile Charles looks like he’s on the verge of spontaneously combusting

@/MonacoRoyalty: THE RING THE JACKET THE HAND-HOLDING THE WALK SHE’S THE MAIN CHARACTER

@/MaxIsWinning: Max Verstappen said:

Emerald ring ✔️

Gold band ✔️

My jacket ✔️

My hand ✔️

My wife ✔️ Legend.

@/f1memequeen: Belle: walks in calmly Internet: 💍😱🔥👗👀💀💍👑 The power of SILENCE

@/LandoSimp44: me: I’m over the Verstappen-Leclerc marriage drama also me: zooming in on the ring like it’s the Mona Lisa

@/FerrariTears: Charles is looking at that gold band like it personally betrayed him Arthur’s gone full ghost mode Pascale is probably praying in a dark room Meanwhile Belle’s just casually wearing a 5-figure emerald like it’s nothing

@/F1MemeLord: Belle: marries Max Verstappen in secret Charles: forgets her birthday Belle: walks into the paddock with a ring and a husband The plot arc is insane. The payoff? Cinematic.

@/gridgossip: MAX WALKING IN WITH HIS WIFE AND ZERO APOLOGY IS THE MOST VERSTAPPEN THING TO EVER HAPPEN

@/TifosiTears: Belle really said: you forgot me? let me introduce you to my husband and this giant green rock

***

The moment they stepped inside the Red Bull garage, Belle felt the shift.

It wasn’t like entering a room. It was like crossing a threshold — one she could never go back from.

There were voices, radio chatter, tire warmers humming. Mechanics moved with sharp efficiency. But as Max walked in with her hand still folded in his, everything… slowed.

Heads turned. Not in shock — they all knew by now. But in curiosity.

She was part of it now.

Max dropped his bag with practiced ease, nodded at one of the engineers, and then looked back at her like she was the only thing that mattered in the room.

“You okay?” he asked, voice low, just for her.

Belle nodded, though her heart was fluttering too fast. “Yeah. Just—this is a lot.”

“You don’t have to talk to anyone if you don’t want to.”

“I want to,” she said quietly. “I want to meet the people who know the version of you I don’t get at home.”

Max smiled like that meant more than she realized — like she’d just handed him something no one else ever had.

“Alright,” he murmured. “Time to meet the chaos.”

Belle only had a second to steel herself before she heard the gruff voice.

“About time you brought her here.”

Jos.

He was already standing near the back wall of the garage, arms folded, mouth tugged up in something that resembled a smile. As he looked at her properly, something softened in his expression. Something almost proud.

“See you survived the vultures,” he said drily, and she couldn’t help but laugh.

She blinked — caught off guard — and then smiled. “I’m told it’s a survival skill.”

Jos chuckled — actually chuckled — and nodded. “Good. You’ll need it.”

“Papa,” Max greeted casually, unbothered by the tension humming in the air. “Thanks for being here. You’ll keep an eye on her while I’m in the car.”

Belle blinked, surprised. “You didn’t tell me that.”

Max smiled slightly. “Didn’t want to stress you out.”

Jos’s lips twitched. Just barely.

“Sit where you want,” he said to her. “It’s quieter at the back. And if anyone annoys you, tell them you married a Verstappen. That’ll scare them off.”

Max gave him a look. Jos ignored him entirely.

Before Belle could respond, a familiar voice called out from just inside the garage.

“Well, well. You’re finally in the right garage.”

She turned — and smiled fully for the first time that day.

Gianpiero Lambiase stood near his station, headset already slung around his neck, amusement lighting his usually serious expression.

“Hi, GP,” Belle said warmly.

He approached, offering a half-hug, half-handshake that was somehow the perfect balance of affection and professionalism. “Max said you’d be here, but I figured he was bluffing.”

“I almost backed out,” Belle admitted. “Then he bribed me with his jacket and pancakes.”

“Classic Verstappen tactics,” GP deadpanned. “Food, flattery, and limited emotional vocabulary.”

Max, passing behind them, muttered, “I can still hear you.”

GP grinned, unfazed. “Welcome, Belle. We’ve all been betting on when you'd show up.”

She arched a brow. “And who won?”

“Helmut,” GP said, disgusted. “Which is horrifying.”

Max returned, tugging lightly on her sleeve. “Come on. Christian wants to meet you.”

Belle exhaled, nerves fluttering again, but she followed Max past rows of screens and engineers until they stopped in front of Christian Horner, who turned to greet them with the ease of a man who’d already been briefed but was pretending he hadn’t.

“Well, you’ve caused quite the storm.”

Christian Horner.

He approached with that signature half-smile of his, hands in his pockets, a subtle look of curiosity behind the polite charm.

“So this is the mysterious Mrs. Verstappen,” he said warmly. “Finally. The woman who managed to tame our reigning champion. Or so the rumors say.”

“I don’t think anyone tames Max,” Belle said dryly.

Christian laughed. “You might be right. But clearly, you’re the exception.”

She extended a hand, and he shook it firmly.

“Christian Horner,” he added, even though she obviously knew.

“Belle Verstappen,” she said quietly — testing the name again. Feeling it settle.

Christian’s gaze flicked to her left hand, where the emerald caught the overhead lights. “Well, it’s official now. Welcome to the madness.”

Belle took a slow breath as they stepped deeper into the garage, Max’s hand briefly grazing her lower back before he peeled off toward his car.

She watched him go, then looked around at the controlled chaos of Red Bull’s world — the data streams, the techs, the noise, the anticipation.

And for the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel like she was standing on the outside of someone else’s life.

She was here.

She was his.

And the garage was exactly where she was supposed to be.

***

Arthur wasn’t sure what he expected.

Maybe denial. Maybe chaos. Maybe the internet was wrong — maybe Belle hadn’t really married Max Verstappen. Maybe someone had faked the name change. Maybe it was a fever dream.

But then he saw them.

Isabelle. Walking into the paddock like she belonged there. Wearing Max’s jacket. Wearing a wedding band. Holding his hand.

Arthur froze mid-step outside the Ferrari hospitality unit. His coffee trembled in his grip. For a second, he genuinely forgot how to breathe.

Because it wasn’t just that Isabelle was there.

It was the way Max glanced at her every few steps, the way she leaned in slightly when the crowd pressed too close. The way their fingers didn’t untangle, not once. Not even when flashes went off or someone whispered her name like it was blasphemy.

She looked calm. Not smug. Not afraid. Just… calm.

And that was what undid Arthur most.

Because she’d never looked like that before — not at races, not around the family, not anywhere she’d ever been expected to play the silent sibling to Charles’ glory.

She looked like herself. Like someone who had finally been given permission to take up space.

And beside him, Charles looked like he was about to snap.

“Unbelievable,” Charles muttered, voice too low and too bitter. “He couldn’t even tell me. He had to parade her in front of everyone like this?”

Arthur tore his eyes away from Isabelle — reluctantly — and turned toward his older brother.

“Are you serious right now?” he asked.

Charles flinched. “What?”

“She’s walking in with her husband, Charles. Not doing a press tour. What did you think was going to happen?”

“I thought maybe—” Charles stopped, jaw tight. “Maybe she’d have the decency to talk to me first.”

Arthur stared at him. “Decency? Are you hearing yourself?”

Charles ran a hand through his hair, agitated. “She’s my sister—”

“And you’re acting like she’s your possession.”

Charles turned on him. “I’m not—”

“Yes, you are!” Arthur snapped, stepping closer, voice sharp. “You’re acting like she owed you something when all she ever wanted was to be treated like she mattered!”

“Don’t twist this, Arthur,” Charles said, low and warning.

Arthur laughed — harsh, disbelieving. “You forgot her birthday. We forgot her birthday!”

“That was a mistake—”

“We forgot her birthday, and then when she finally chooses herself, finally chooses someone who sees her, you make it about you?”

“She married Max—”

“She married someone who shows up for her,” Arthur interrupted. “Which is more than we’ve done in years.”

Charles’ face tightened.

Arthur kept going. “You don’t get to be the victim here. Not when she’s spent years watching you get cheered while she was ignored. Not when she begged for scraps of attention and we gave her nothing.”

Charles looked like he wanted to argue. He didn’t.

“She stopped trying to be seen by us,” Arthur said quietly. “Because she found someone who already sees her.”

Charles swallowed hard, eyes flicking toward the Red Bull garage where Belle had disappeared with Max minutes ago. “I just… I didn’t think she’d leave us like that.”

“She didn’t leave,” Arthur said. “We just never noticed when she stopped waiting.”

Silence.

Thick. Tense. Regretful.

Charles looked down, jaw clenched. He didn’t say sorry. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

Arthur sighed and set his coffee down on the table beside him.

“If you want to be part of her life now, Charles,” he said. “You’re going to have to show her that you’re finally willing to see her. Not as your sister. As herself.”

Then he walked away, leaving Charles in the middle of the paddock — alone, surrounded by people, and for the first time, not the main character.

***

Belle had just sat down with a cup of tea in the quiet corner of Red Bull hospitality when she heard it.

A voice. Sharp. French-accented. Not loud, but unmistakably firm.

She looked up instinctively — and wasn’t surprised.

Arthur.

Standing just outside the entrance, shoulders tense, hands stuffed into his hoodie pockets like he was trying to shrink into himself. He’d clearly made it through the first layer of staff with that Leclerc charm that used to get him everywhere.

Unfortunately for him, Jos Verstappen was standing by the doorway.

And Jos did not do charm.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing here?” Jos asked, arms crossed tightly over his chest.

Arthur hesitated. “I just—I wanted to talk to her.”

“This isn’t Ferrari,” Jos said, voice calm but cutting. “You don’t get to stroll in here after throwing a tantrum across half the paddock and acting like your sister’s marriage is some kind of betrayal.”

Arthur flushed. “I didn’t throw a tantrum—”

“You don’t belong here,” Jos said. “Not after this morning. Not after the way your brother behaved.”

Arthur’s face flushed. “I came her to…”

“To what?” Jos stepped closer. “Apologize on behalf of Charles? Defend him? Make excuses for how you treated her?”

“No!” Arthur said quickly, hands up. “No. I’m not here for Charles. I’m here for her.”

Belle stood before she even realized she’d moved.

“Jos,” she said, voice soft but clear. “It’s fine.”

He turned toward her, frowning. “Belle—”

“I want to talk to him,” she said.

And for the first time in a very long time, she saw someone else hesitate when talking to her.

Jos studied her face for a beat. Whatever he saw must have been enough, because he gave a terse nod and stepped back. Not far. But far enough to say I’m still watching.

Arthur looked like he was bracing for impact as she walked toward him.

Belle stopped a few steps away, arms crossed loosely. She didn’t hug him. Didn’t cry.

He stopped a little too far away, hands in his pockets, guilt etched into every line of his face.

“You weren’t really trying to sneak past Jos Verstappen, were you?” she finally asked dryly.

Arthur groaned. “I thought maybe if I moved fast enough, he wouldn’t see me.”

A faint smile tugged at Belle’s mouth. “He used to spot Max sneaking out after curfew with a hoodie pulled over his head. You never had a chance.”

Arthur groaned. “I thought maybe if I moved fast enough, he’d blink.”

“He never blinks,” she said.

He cracked a smile, brief and sheepish. “You look good.”

Her expression softened, barely. “You look like you haven’t slept.”

“I haven’t,” he admitted. “Charles is sulking like it’s a championship sport. Maman’s crying into a croissant. Lorenzo’s trying to schedule a family meeting like it’s a UN crisis summit.”

Belle sighed, gaze drifting past him for a moment. “I figured.”

He hesitated. “I didn’t come to defend anyone. Not Charles. Not Maman. I just… I needed to see you. For myself.”

She studied him in silence. Arthur had always been a little caught in the middle — younger than Charles, louder than Lorenzo, trying to carve space where there was none. He wasn’t blameless. But he hadn’t been cruel. Just… complicit.

But he was trying now.

The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable — just full. Full of all the things left unsaid for too long. All the messages never sent. All the birthday calls missed, the family dinners where she was present but not seen.

“You used to hide in my bed during thunderstorms,” Belle said quietly. “You’d ask me to read the same chapter of Le Petit Prince three times until you fell asleep.”

Arthur blinked, surprised. “You remember that?”

“I remember everything,” Belle said. “I remember the good things. I always tried to.”

His throat worked around the lump there. “Why didn’t you tell me? About Max. About the wedding. About… any of it?”

Belle looked down at the rings on her finger — the green of the emerald glinting faintly under the hospitality lighting, the simple gold band beneath it warm against her skin.

“Because you weren’t really looking,” she said. “None of you were. And I was tired of asking to be seen.”

Arthur didn’t flinch. Didn’t argue.

“I know,” he said instead, voice low and thick. “I think… I’ve known it for a while. I just didn’t know how to face it. But seeing you with Max — the way he looks at you, the way you look at you — I get it now. And I hate that it took this for me to see it.”

“It’s not about hating yourself,” Belle said, gentler this time. “It’s about doing better now. If you want to.”

Arthur looked at her like she was someone new. Someone stronger. Someone who had stopped waiting for the world to recognize her and built a place where she didn’t need permission.

“Are you happy?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

She didn’t hesitate.

“Yes.”

He exhaled sharply, like he’d been holding that breath all morning.

“Good,” he said. “That’s all I wanted to know.”

Belle stepped forward then, arms uncrossed, and opened them. The offer was quiet. Soft.

Arthur didn’t hesitate.

He pulled her into a hug like he was afraid she might vanish again. His arms wound around her, shoulders trembling just slightly. Belle hugged him back — firm and steady.

And it felt like something beginning again.

Not perfectly. Not fixed.

But trying.

When they finally stepped apart, Belle offered a quiet, teasing smile. “Next time, use the front entrance. Jos might not be so forgiving twice.”

Arthur groaned. “I’m still recovering. I think he aged me ten years with one sentence.”

She laughed — really laughed, for the first time that day.

Behind them, Jos gave a small grunt from where he stood — arms crossed, unimpressed — but Belle didn’t miss the way one corner of his mouth almost curved.

***

Max didn’t usually seek people out for conversations. Not personal ones, anyway.

He’d spent most of his life guarding things that mattered — like they were fragile, like they’d break if anyone else got too close. But this was different. She was different. And what they had now — what was growing quietly inside her — felt too big to carry on his own.

So he found GP.

It was a lull in the afternoon, the last briefing before the sim work, engineers rotating through data stations like gears in a perfect machine. But GP was by himself, leaning against the telemetry table, one brow raised as Max approached with the kind of expression that said, you better not be about to request a new steering wheel setting.

Max didn’t say anything right away.

GP waited.

“I need to tell you something,” Max said finally. His voice was lower than usual. Not tense — just held close.

GP straightened a little. “What happened?”

“She’s pregnant,” Max said.

The words came out smoother than he expected. Maybe because they’d been sitting on his tongue all day.

GP stared at him. Blinked once. Then again.

And then — grinned.

“Seriously?” he asked, already smiling. “Belle’s pregnant?”

Max nodded once, his throat tight. “Yeah. She told me a few weeks ago.”

GP exhaled a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Bloody hell. I should’ve seen that coming.”

Max raised a brow. “You didn’t?”

“I figured it was either that or you bought her a horse farm.”

Max laughed — properly, finally, the weight of the day cracking just a little. “I might still do that.”

GP was still smiling, but there was something else in his face now — something softer. Warmer.

“Kids are great,” he said, voice lower, more personal now. “I mean, chaotic and exhausting, but… they’re the best thing I’ve ever done.”

Max blinked. “You’ve never said that.”

GP shrugged. “Didn’t seem relevant when you were nineteen and trying to beat Lewis Hamilton into turn one.”

Max huffed a laugh. “Fair.”

There was a pause. A weight in the air — not heavy, but full.

“She’ll be a brilliant mum,” GP added, quieter now. “She’s got that calm strength to her. The kind you don’t notice until it’s the only thing holding you together.”

Max nodded slowly. “I know.”

“And you,” GP said, tapping a finger to Max’s chest, “are going to be fine. More than fine.”

Max hesitated. “Even with…”

“Even with your past? Your dad?” GP finished for him. “You’re not him. You never were.”

Max looked down for a moment, jaw tight. Then, after a long breath, he met GP’s eyes again. “I just want to give that kid something different. Something better.”

“You already are,” GP said simply. “You chose Belle. That’s your first good decision. Choosing that baby every day — that’s your next.”

“I’m scared,” Max admitted.

“Good,” GP said. “That means you give a damn.”

Max nodded once.

“I’m happy for you, mate,” GP added, reaching out and clasping his shoulder. “Really.”

Max nodded again, grateful in a way he didn’t know how to say.

“And just for the record,” GP added dryly, “I had a bet with my wife that you two would get pregnant before Charles figured out you were married.”

Max burst out laughing. “Did she win?”

“She always wins.”

Max was still grinning when he turned to leave, lighter than he’d been all day.

There was so much left to do — more secrets to tell, more people to face — but for now, it was enough that someone knew.

Someone who didn’t just understand racing.

Someone who understood him.

***

From the hospitality suite above the Red Bull garage, Belle had a near-perfect view of the final laps.

The Spanish heat shimmered off the track, waves of it rising like ghosts in the air, but Belle barely noticed. Her fingers gripped the arm of her seat, headset slightly askew, Max’s voice crackling faintly through the speakers — clipped, calm, focused.

She had never liked watching him race before she knew him.

Now, she knew better.

Now, she could hear it in the way he spoke to GP. The way he adjusted. Reacted. Fought, not like a man trying to prove something — but like someone who knew exactly who he was, and who he had waiting for him at the end.

You’ve got three laps left, mate, GP said calmly in her ear.

Copy. Leave it with me.

Belle swallowed hard. Her hand settled instinctively over the front of her stomach, hidden by the loose navy blouse she wore. She hadn’t told many people yet — just Victoria, Sophie, Jos, and Emilie, and now GP, thanks to Max.

But this felt like a secret the whole world would eventually know.

The final sector flew past in a blur. Tyres screamed. Crowds surged.

And then, the chequered flag.

“YES! That’s P1, Max. Well done.”

Belle exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Her hand flew to her mouth, and then, just as quickly, to her chest — right over her heart.

He’d done it.

Again.

The team erupted around her — mechanics cheering, hugging, high-fiving, lifting cans of Red Bull like champagne flutes. Christian was already halfway out the door, and even Jos, who’d been watching beside her with arms crossed, allowed himself a rare smile.

But Belle?

Belle didn’t move.

Not until someone nudged her gently — a team assistant with wide eyes and an even wider grin. “He’s asking for you,” the girl said. “Go. Go!”

Belle blinked. “What?”

“Parc Fermé. He’s already out of the car. Go!”

She didn’t hesitate after that.

The hallways blurred past her — wide corridors filled with team personnel and security and overheated energy. Her flats slapped against the concrete. Her pass flashed in the light. People parted without even realizing it — as if they could feel she belonged to this moment.

She reached the barrier just as Max pulled off his helmet, hair damp with sweat, fire suit unzipped halfway down his chest.

And then he saw her.

His eyes lit up in a way Belle didn’t think he realized he saved for her. He started toward her before the cameras could swarm, before the journalists could shout, before anyone else could get between them.

He crossed to her like he knew she’d be there. Like he’d been driving toward her the whole time.

And Belle didn’t think. Didn’t care about the cameras or the crowd or the fact that Charles was likely still in his car wondering where it all went wrong.

She stepped past the barrier and met him halfway.

And then she kissed him.

There was no hesitation. No coy look at the cameras. No soft-launch subtlety.

Just her hands on his face, his arms wrapping tight around her waist, and the kind of kiss that felt like a homecoming.

The paddock erupted.

Somewhere behind them, a Sky Sports presenter squeaked. David Croft nearly dropped his mic.

Belle pulled back only when Max laughed against her mouth.

“You kissed me in Parc Fermé,” he murmured.

“You won,” she said simply, brushing sweat-mussed hair off his forehead. “You deserve to be kissed.”

Max looked at her for a long moment, then down — briefly, instinctively — at her stomach, where no one else had noticed her hand lingering.

And then he whispered, just for her: “Both of you.”

Belle smiled. “You came home to us safe.”

Max kissed her one more time, softer now, and then turned back toward the swarm of cameras and celebration.

And Belle?

Belle stood at the edge of it all — her lips still tingling, her heart full — knowing the headlines tomorrow would be chaos.

But for now?

She had kissed her husband in front of the entire world.

And she didn’t regret a single second.

***

Meanwhile on Twitter:

@/RedBullTroll33: i thought the name change was chaos BUT THIS??? BELLE JUST WALKED IN AND KISSED HIM LIKE THEY WEREN’T HIDING FOR A YEAR I’M LOSING IT

@/FerrariTears: charles leclerc being forced to watch max verstappen win the race and then watch his baby sister kiss him like it’s a romcom finale is actually greek tragedy level storytelling

@/f1memequeen: Belle: soft-launched a horse and an emerald ring Belle: quietly changed her last name to Verstappen Belle: walks into parc fermé and kisses her world champion husband Me: sobbing okay queen I GET IT

@/WifeGuyMax: MAX VERSTAPPEN KISSED HIS WIFE IN FRONT OF EVERYONE AND LOOKED LIKE HE’D JUST WON SOMETHING MORE IMPORTANT THAN A RACE i’m unwell

@/f1memehub: sky sports: mid-sentence belle: kisses max crofty: glitches karun: gasping social media admin: pressing post like their life depends on it

@/LandoSimp44: the paddock was like “max has a secret wife” max said “here she is. in my arms. deal with it.”

@/MonacoRoyalty: SHE KISSED HIM IN PARC FERMÉ AFTER THE WIN AND HE LOOKED AT HER LIKE SHE PUT THE SUN IN THE SKY i’m crying this is cinema

@/MaxIsWinning: max verstappen doesn’t do drama he does declarations first her name now the kiss next stop: world domination

@/FerrariF1Pain: charles watching belle kiss max in parc fermé after forgetting her birthday is the most older brother consequences i’ve ever seen

@/GridChaosDaily: “Belle kissed Max after the Spanish GP” is now officially my favorite F1 moment no context. just vibes. just love

***

Instagram Post: @/belleverstappen

@/maxverstappen1: Every lifetime, every circuit. Every time. 💍❤️

@/redbullracing: Belle Verstappen supremacy. (also congrats Max 👀)

@/emilie_abadie: this is my new phone background. and lock screen. and wallpaper. and religion. thanks.

@/pierregasly: i need everyone to stop posting this before i start believing in soulmates again

@/landonorris: i was THERE. i SAW IT. i’m never recovering.

@/f1: most liked paddock kiss of all time? confirmed.

@tifositimes: I didn’t expect to cry over a Verstappen kiss post today but here we are.

@/chaoticgridgirl: SHE POSTED IT. THE KISS. THE LEGENDARY KISS. I NEED A MINUTE. ACTUALLY I NEED A WEEK.

@/f1softlaunchdetective: this is what soft-launch girlies do when they hit their final form. she dropped ONE photo and burned the paddock to the ground.

@/maxielflamequeen: the ring. the kiss. the caption.

@paddockwhispers: arthur liked it. charles didn’t.

@softverstappen: i will never emotionally recover from this post. ever. she wins. every time.

@maxsvillainera: look at the way he’s holding her look at the way she’s smiling into the kiss no notes. pure poetry.

***

FIA Press Conference — Post-Race | Spanish Grand Prix 2024

Drivers: P1 - Max Verstappen (Red Bull Racing), P2 - Lewis Hamilton (Mercedes), P3 - Lando Norris (McLaren)

Moderator: Congratulations, Max. A win today. How are you feeling?

Max: Good. Yeah, car felt great, team executed perfectly. Always nice to win in Barcelona.

Moderator: We’ll open the floor for questions.

Journalist #1: Max, first of all, congratulations. But obviously everyone’s talking about the moment in Parc Fermé. Can you confirm — was that your wife? And are the rumors true that you and Isabelle Leclerc got married in secret?

Max: Yes. That was my wife. And yes — we got married in Monaco a few weeks ago. We’re very happy.

Lando: (muttering into his mic) Understatement of the century.

Lewis: (grinning) Congrats, man.

Journalist #2: Max, there’s been a lot of talk online about Belle’s birthday being forgotten by her family and this being the reason she pulled away from them. Any comment on that?

Max: No.

Journalist #2: Nothing at all?

Max: (calmly) No.

Journalist #3: There’s a narrative online that Belle’s been overlooked for years. Some say this entire paddock entrance and Parc Fermé kiss was a statement. Was that intentional?

Max: (dryly) We walked in holding hands. We kissed. We’re married. If that counts as a statement, I don’t know what to tell you.

Journalist #4: Do you think this will affect your dynamic with Charles Leclerc?

Max: (expression flat) We’ll see. That’s between him and his sister. I’m just here to race cars and go home to my wife.

Lando: (quietly, to Lewis) He’s in his “husband first, world champion second” era.

Lewis: (laughing into his mic) He really is.

Journalist #6: Do you plan on making any public statement about the family fallout?

Max: No. That’s her story to tell, not mine. And frankly, it’s not gossip. It’s real life. So maybe let’s show a little respect.

Journalist #7: What was going through your mind when she kissed you in Parc Fermé?

Max: (finally smiling) That I’m the luckiest guy in the world.

Journalist #8: Will your wife be traveling with you to more races now?

Max (still polite, still done): We‘ll decide what works best for us as a family. That’s between us.

Reporter #9: Was Belle’s presence in the paddock today a signal? Especially given what happened with Charles—

Max: (cuts in, voice calm but firmer) Belle doesn’t need to signal anything. She’s not a statement. She’s a person. And she came today to support her husband. That’s all.

Moderator: Alright, I think we’ll wrap it there before anyone pushes their luck. Congratulations to all three drivers. Max, Lando, Lewis — thank you.

Lando (leaning into mic): Congrats again, mate. On the win and the wife.

***

Fred Vasseur closed the door harder than necessary.

The sound echoed through the otherwise silent room like a gunshot.

Charles looked up from where he was sitting on the small couch, still in his fireproofs, helmet discarded beside him. He was sweaty, tired, irritated — and entirely unprepared.

“Qu’est-ce que tu fais, Charles?” Fred said sharply. What are you doing?

Charles blinked. “What—?”

“You want to explain to me,” Fred continued, voice calm in the most dangerous way possible, “how your sister kissing Max Verstappen became the story of our weekend?”

Charles sat up straighter. “That’s not fair—”

“No?” Fred crossed the room, standing over him now. “Because I think it’s very fair. You let your personal drama become a paddock sideshow, and now everyone’s talking about the Leclerc family meltdown while we limp home with a P5 and a ruined PR day.”

“I didn’t ask for that to happen!”

“But you made sure it did,” Fred snapped. “You didn’t know Belle got married. Fine. You didn’t approve of who she married. Fine. You could’ve said nothing. But instead, you threw a tantrum. In the paddock. In group chats. Loud enough that half the drivers are mocking you and the other half are wondering if you even see your sister as a person.”

Charles flushed. “That’s not—”

“You forgot her birthday, Charles.”

The silence that followed was absolute.

Fred didn’t yell. He didn’t need to.

“You forgot her birthday. You forgot her job. You forgot she moved. And when she stopped chasing your attention, you acted like she betrayed you.” His voice didn’t rise, but it sharpened with every word. “And now you’re shocked that the only person she trusted to hold her hand through it all was the man who sees her every single day?”

Charles looked away, jaw tight. “It wasn’t supposed to be public.”

Fred laughed — once, bitter and short. “And yet you’re the one who made it public. Max didn’t. Belle didn’t. You did. And now you’ve made us look like amateurs — not because of strategy, but because you couldn’t handle the fact that your sister’s life isn’t orbiting around you anymore.”

Charles opened his mouth. Closed it. No words came.

Fred sighed — not in exasperation, but in disappointment. And that hurt more.

“I expected more from you,” he said quietly. “As a driver, yes. But more than that — as a man. As a brother.”

Charles flinched like he’d been hit.

“You want to fix this?” Fred said, stepping back. “Then stop sulking. Start listening. And for the love of God, don’t let Max Verstappen be the better man in every single room you enter.”

He turned and walked to the door.

“Because right now?” he added, hand on the handle. “He’s not just beating you on track. He’s beating you in every other way that matters.”

And then he left.

Charles stayed seated, eyes burning, the silence pressing heavier than any helmet ever had.

***

Dinner had started out exactly the way Belle expected.

Loud. Warm. Slightly unhinged.

They were tucked into a quiet corner of a restaurant just off the Barcelona marina — the kind of place Max loved because no one there cared about racing unless it blocked traffic. The table was round, the lighting dim and golden, and the laughter had already started before the appetizers arrived.

Lando had barely let Max sit down before declaring, “You’re disgusting. You win a race and then get kissed like it’s a Netflix finale. Get out.”

“Jealousy doesn’t suit you,” Max had said, completely unbothered.

Oscar, seated beside Lily, just smirked. “It was kind of romantic.”

Lily looked between the two of them with a soft smile. “Kind of? It broke the Internet.”

Daniel had toasted “to hard launches, soft kisses, and Verstappen chaos,” and Belle had nearly snorted water through her nose.

But now dinner had mellowed. Plates cleared. Dessert on the way. The kind of soft lull that usually came right before someone said something life-changing.

Max glanced at Belle. That look — gentle, checking, asking without words.

She nodded once.

He cleared his throat lightly. “We actually… wanted to tell you guys something.”

Four pairs of eyes snapped to attention.

“Tell me you’re moving to the countryside and buying a farm,” Lando said immediately. “Please. I need this arc.”

“Better,” Max said, eyes flicking toward Belle.

Belle rested her hands on the edge of the table. Her heart was fluttering, not with nerves exactly — more like awe. Like the moment was finally catching up to her.

“I’m pregnant,” she said.

There was a pause.

A moment of stunned silence.

And then—

“NO YOU’RE NOT,” Daniel half-shouted, nearly knocking over his wine glass.

Lily gasped, hands flying to her mouth. “Are you serious?!”

Oscar just stared, mouth slightly open like his brain had hit the brakes.

Lando blinked twice, then pointed between them. “Like… with a baby baby?”

Belle burst into laughter — the tension cracking wide open. Max was already grinning like he’d been waiting for this chaos all night.

“Yes, Lando,” Belle said, wiping at her eyes. “A baby baby.”

Oscar finally found his voice. “How long have you known?”

“A few weeks,” Max said. “We’re keeping it quiet for now. But we wanted you to know first.”

Lily leaned across the table, eyes wide and shining. “You’re going to be parents. Oh my god. That baby is going to have cheekbones and a death stare.”

“And probably a kart by age two,” Daniel added, now fully beaming. “Holy shit. Max Verstappen’s going to be a dad. I need to sit down.”

“You are sitting down,” Oscar said, still blinking like he hadn’t caught up.

“I need to sit down harder,” Daniel muttered.

Lando reached for Belle’s hand across the table, squeezing it. “You’re going to be amazing.”

Belle swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. “I’m scared,” she admitted. “But… I’m also happy. Really happy.”

Max’s hand found her thigh under the table, grounding and steady. She didn’t have to look to know he was watching her with that same soft, almost reverent expression he’d had ever since she told him.

Oscar was smiling now too, the initial shock melting into something warm. “Congratulations,” he said. “Both of you. Really.”

“And selfishly,” Lily added, “I’m just glad we get to love this baby too.”

Daniel raised his glass. “To the official grid baby.”

“We’re not calling them that,” Belle said immediately.

“To Max spiraling when the baby kicks for the first time,” Oscar added, grinning.

“To all of it,” Lando finished. “To them.”

They clinked glasses — softly, gently.

And as Belle looked around at the people who had chosen her — not because she was someone’s sister, not because she was attached to a name — but because they loved her, her heart felt impossibly full.

The world could stay outside tonight.

This was theirs.

***

1K notes · View notes

planetaryupscaled · 1 month ago

Text

Claiming Naivety

Male OC x Eunchae

Tags: 15k, smut, first time, creampie, oral, anal, gb, tw

The story is not ours, we alternate the original story to match our desired settings.

Eunchae was enjoying breakfast with her sister on a Saturday morning. They always made time like this to hang out. After all, they were the only family they each had. Eunchae's sister had dedicated her life to giving her all the love she could.

Eunchae, now that she was eighteen, had come to appreciate all her sister had done for her. The past year of her sister’s life was split between working and caring for her. But now that she was an adult herself and about to head to college in a few months, she hoped her sister would make time for herself again. Find new hobbies, make friends, and maybe even find a romantic relationship.

Eunchae herself hasn’t explored the romantic world either, but for different reasons. She dedicated herself to her studies as well as her love of art and music. While she may have lacked boyfriends, she made up for it with friends. In particular, she had four close friends: Eunwoo, Doyun, Chanwoo, and Minho. Her sister had teased her in the past for having four guys as best friends and predicted she would end up dating them. However, Eunchae asserted that wasn’t going to happen, proving herself correct. These guys were her friends, and no other funny business had ever occurred between them.

“Are your friends coming over tonight to hang out again?” her sister asked. Eunchae nodded. Her house was a frequent hangout spot for them. Her sister enjoyed having her friends around, too, and they often called her the ‘cool sister.’

“I’m glad to hear it. Now that you guys are adults, I can’t help but notice how handsome they are,” she said with a sly smile.

“Unnie! Gross! Those are my friends you’re talking about,” Eunchae said, shocked that her sister would comment on her friend’s appearance.

“Relax, I’m just saying. They wouldn’t be interested in me anyway. I’m older, but can you imagine...,” she said, looking off into the distance.

“No! I can’t and won’t imagine that. Can we please talk about something else,” Eunchae said in protest.

Hearing that her sister even entertained the idea of being anything resembling romantic with her friends was beyond embarrassing. She appreciated that her sister hadn’t had any contact with a man in years, but she could start by dating men her age.

However, Eunchae calmed herself down; her sister was just teasing. Even if she was interested in her friends in that way, as her sister said, she’s older than them. Eunchae even doubted how much her friends were interested in romantic encounters at the moment. None of them had girlfriends or gone on dates, as far as she knew. The five of them just wanted to have some fun.

That evening, the four guys arrived together at Eunchae’s. She had made plans for them to play a board game. “Hey guys, I got the game set up in the backroom. I even added in the bird expansion, so there are even more bird powers you can use!” Eunchae excitedly said.

But as she led them to the room where she expected them to spend the next hours playing the game, the four boys were momentarily distracted by the arrival of her sister. “Hello, boys! It’s so nice to see you all. I trust you all are staying fit as ever?” she said to them.

“We try our best, Noona,” Eunwoo said in a flirty tone that alarmed Eunchae.

“You’re looking fit yourself,” Doyun added.

“Oh, stop it, you guys. You’re going to tempt me into doing something bad...,” she said. What the hell does that mean, Eunchae thought. She started pushing her friends down the hall, away from her sister.

Eunchae said, “Come on, I need to explain to you guys how the egg-laying mechanism works in the game.”

Finally, distancing herself from her sister's odd behavior, Eunchae got to work walking them through the board game she intended for all five of them to play over the next few hours. Ten minutes later, she was in the middle of explaining how food selection works. “If the dice show the same food, you can re-roll. But that’s optional,” she said as she showed them an example.

"Wow, Noona looked amazing! Has she been hitting the gym, Eunchae?" Minho asked, cutting her off mid-sentence.

“She’s been taking walks more, I guess. Anyway, you can only take food when you do the collection action...,” she said, changing the subject back to the game before getting interrupted once more.

“She was being really friendly with us. Even flirty,” Chanwoo remarked.

“Yeah, she kept talking about how handsome you guys were earlier today. She even wondered out loud if you guys were interested in her. It was pretty embarrassing to hear. Can you imagine!” Eunchae said with a laugh. She felt bad making fun of her sister like this, but her behavior was so odd today.

“Your sister interested in us?” Doyun asked, surprised.

“That’s not what I said. She was wondering if you all were interested in her. God, I feel cringy even telling you guys about it,” Eunchae said, clarifying. “But let’s talk about how nectar is used.” However, the boys were becoming less interested in the game.

“Dude, she said we were handsome. She hasn’t been with anyone lately. Do you think we might have a shot with her?” Doyun asked the group.

Eunchae’s eyes lit up in horror. These guys were actually interested in her sister? “Whoa, guys. She’s my sister. Can we not talk about her like this?” she asked.

“We’re not teasing, Eunchae. I don’t know about the other guys, but I think your sister is a stone-cold fox. I’m sorry, but if she is attracted to me, I’m taking my shot,” Doyun said.

The other three voiced their strong agreement. “Let’s go talk to her. She might be on board for anything,” Eunwoo suggested. This prompted the four boys to stand up.

Eunchae ran to the door and blocked it. Their willingness and her sister’s flirty demeanor tonight created a bad combination. She didn’t need her friends and her sister engaging in... funny business.

“Guys, wait. I’m asking you, as your long-term friend here, please don’t go flirt with my sister,” Eunchae said, appealing to the four guys.

They all looked at each other before Doyun replied.

“To be clear, we’re not looking to flirt. Let’s stop beating around the bush here and be clear. We want to have sex with your sister, and we think we have a real shot tonight at actually making this happen.”

While Eunchae didn’t say this, she agreed with her friends. With the way her sister has been talking today, she might let her friends seduce her. Eunchae did not need to have her friends turning her sister into their fuck buddy.

“Don’t do this, guys. She’s my sister,” Eunchae said desperately.

“We’re not asking you to watch or anything, Eunchae. We’re adults now. Your sister is an adult woman—a woman with desires and the ability to give consent. I’m sorry that you are uncomfortable with the situation, but you don��t have the right to interfere if everyone involved is on board starting a sexual relationship,” Minho explained.

She understood his point, but her point was she didn’t want her sister fucking her friends.

They started crowding Eunchae, trying to get past. The second they do, there would be nothing stopping them from starting a five-way orgy with her sister. Her mind raced with thoughts of what she could say to convince them. Suddenly, a viable idea occurred to her, and she voiced it.

“How about I flash you guys my underwear?” Eunchae blurted out.

All four of them halted their attempt to leave the room, and her cheeks flushed red. She couldn’t believe the words that had come out of her mouth. She nearly spoke up, declaring it to be a joke, but she had managed to stop them.

“Really? Or are you just fooling us?” Doyun asked skeptically.

Eunwoo was also in doubt. “You’ve never been one for showing off. You wear a t-shirt and swim trunks over your one-piece bathing suit when we go to the pool.”

“I’m... not kidding. But only a quick flash! Just so you guys will calm down, and we can play the game,” Eunchae said with a shaky voice.

The four of them backed up and watched Eunchae with interest. They seemed to expect her to flash them right then and there. Eunchae’s mind raced with panicked thoughts. She had never done anything like this, and she worried she was opening a door she could never close. Would these guys expect her to do this again in the future? Would they start to see her as more than a friend? She wasn’t sure she was ready for that.

But in the short term, she needed to do this. Their having sex with her sister would change their relationship far more than briefly seeing her underwear. As she felt her face heat up, Eunchae gripped the bottom of her sweater tightly. Closing her eyes, she quickly lifted her shirt, feeling the cooler air hit her stomach and upper body chest. She then pulled her sweater back down. They saw her bra, even if just for a second. It was done. She opened her eyes to the smiling faces of her friends, still staring at her chest, even though the underwear was now not visible.

“Okay. Let’s get back to the game,” Eunchae said in a quiet voice.

But the guys didn’t follow her back to the table. “You only showed us your bra. You still need to flash us your panties,” Minho said.

“What?” Eunchae said, turning around in shock. “I didn’t say anything about my panties. That’s asking too much, guys!”

They looked disappointed but understanding. “You don’t need to do anything that makes you uncomfortable, Eunchae. We’ll come back after we’re done to start the game,” Minho said as, once again, the guys headed towards the door and into the welcoming arms of Eunchae’s sister.

“Okay, look!” Eunchae yelled as she lifted her skirt, showing the four guys her panties. They all spun around and witnessed her underwear for the first time. Only this thin fabric was between them and their female friend’s most intimate area.

Confident they had seen what they requested, she lowered the skirt back down, restoring her back into a decent state. “We need to see the back of your panties as well,” Doyun added.

“What? Why?” Eunchae asked the question even though she could guess why.

Were they really so interested in her body that they needed to see her in her panties from different angles? The guys didn’t answer, so rather than wait for them to start walking towards the door again, Eunchae rolled her eyes and turned around. Lifting her skirt yet again, the four men enjoyed yet another view of her body that no man has yet seen until today.

The flowing air she felt on her cheeks reminded her that this underwear didn’t cover as much of her as she would have liked. She let the skirt fall back into place and felt relieved this was done. She hoped her friends would agree not to speak of this embarrassing day again.

“Wow, that was pretty hot, Eunchae. I didn’t know you had an exhibitionist side to you like that,” Chanwoo replied, still thinking about his friend in this new, sexy light.

“I didn’t do it for any weird reason like that! I just did it to convince you guys not to go try and get with my sister!” Eunchae replied in protest.

“Eunchae... why would giving us a quick flash of your underwear stop us from fucking your sister? She’s going to show us a lot more than just two seconds of her panties,” Doyun pointed out. Eunchae couldn’t believe this. Had she just embarrassed herself for no reason?

“Well then, how about I strip to my underwear and stay that way for the evening,” she offered, her muscles tensing up as she thought how shameful this was going to be for her.

“I’d love that,” Minho said, taking a seat as he looked forward to a much longer view of his longtime female friend in her unmentionables. The others followed suit. Once again, the naive teenager found herself in a situation where her friends anxiously awaited her to expose her body to them.

“You guys don’t really want to see me in my underwear, do you?” she asked them with a nervous laugh. Her friends responded with enthusiastic nods as they eyed her body.

Seeing no other path forward except letting her friends seek out her horny sister, Eunchae’s shaky hands reached for the bottom of her sweater. As she pulled it up and felt her stomach get exposed, she told herself it was nothing they hadn’t already seen, albeit briefly. The sweater rose to her face, and she knew that once again, her bra, holding her ample breasts, was on display for her friends.

“Fantastic,” Eunwoo commented as she placed her top on the ground.

The young lady instinctively wanted to cover her chest, but she knew she needed to finish the job first. She turned to face her friends before starting to push her skirt down, as she didn’t want them to see her rear end. But both Doyun and Chanwoo walked behind her, making that plan null.

The skirt slid down over the cheeks of her butt as she was again reminded that these panties didn’t cover the entirety of her ass. Trying to avoid bending over, Eunchae let the skirt fall to the floor. Her task was completed, but she now faced the humiliation of playing the game all evening in this state. Her friends would be able to view almost all of her exposed body whenever they wanted. She felt like a tramp, but her sister would be free from the eager hands of these four familiar guys.

“I’ll stay like this if you guys promise not to look at me too much. Now getting back to the player boards...,” Eunchae said, desperate to get back to her instructions once again.

But as always, her friends interjected before she could continue. “Eunchae, this is really hot. But your sister is going to show us her whole body, not just tease us in her underwear,” Doyun pointed out.

“God, I can’t wait to see her tits. So big and juicy. Fuck...,” Chanwoo said while mimicking their shape with his hands.

“Stop describing my sister’s tits! Jesus! I stripped to my underwear, and you guys still aren’t satisfied. Throw me a bone here,” the young woman complained.

“I’m looking forward to throwing your sister my bone,” Minho remarked.

“Shut up!” Eunchae had never seen this side of her friends. Were they really this anxious to fuck someone? And why did that person have to be her sister? But she understood their point about seeing her sister naked, as weird as that point was to make, countering it would be insanity. She would have to show them something she hadn’t planned to reveal until she got married in her late thirties: her naked body.

“Maybe I...,” she started to say, but then lost her words. The four guys waited for her to finish her thought, but she continued to stammer.

“Maybe you what?” Chanwoo asked curiously.

“Eunchae, you don’t have to do anything you aren’t ready for.” If she wanted to keep these guys from knowing what her sister’s naked body looked like, she did, Eunchae thought.

“Maybe I am willing to show you guys more,” she said, finally getting her words out.

After a brief pause, the boys sought clarification. “Like your boobs?” Eunwoo asked.

“And maybe your pussy too? Your sister will certainly show us hers.” Doyun pointed out.

“You should get on a table and do a strip tease!” Chanwoo added.

“And then give us lap dances like our own personal stripper!” Minho said excitedly.

When Eunchae said she was willing to show more, she meant maybe a quick flash of her chest while keeping her nipples concealed possible. But before she could say anything, her friends turned this offer into her acting as a full-on stripper who showed every inch of her body and even sat in their laps. Any compromise she offered from here would only create disappointment that would drive them into the arms and other parts of her willing sister.

“Trust me, guys. You don’t want to see me naked. It’s not worth it. I’m not that attractive,” Eunchae said, vocalizing her self-doubts.

“Are you kidding? Seeing you naked has been a dream of mine since we met. But you have never shown any interest in that kind of stuff till now,” Doyun admitted. The other three were in total agreement. Eunchae was taken aback at this admission. Her friends thought about her naked? This was such a foreign concept to Eunchae. The thought of someone seeing her as a sex object was confusing. But she shook off this strange thought. She had a choice to make. Either strip nude for her friends or send them off to fuck her sister. The choice was clear, albeit incredibly embarrassing.

“Where do you want me to do this?” she asked as her four friends’ faces lit up with the realization that this was going to happen. They led her to the game table, where they pushed game pieces aside and helped her onto the table. Standing on the table, she realized how shameful of an angle these guys were going to have on her various... parts. But she was up here now, and backing down would spell an end to her sister’s innocence.

“Do you... guys have a preference on what I... start with,” she asked them as her hands moved back and forth between her bra and panties. She couldn’t bear to decide for herself. Whatever piece she thought about removing first would send an unintended message to her friends about her confidence in that part or would indicate that she wanted them to see this first or last. Let the guys decide.

But this proved to be folly. Half of them yelled for her to show her boobs first, while the other half demanded the sight of her naked pussy. Hearing both sides argue about what part of her body they wanted to see put Eunchae into a state of extreme agitation, and she found herself pulling her panties down without even realizing what she was doing. The arguing stopped instantly as her panties landed on the top of the table, and her bald pussy was put on display for all four men. In that instant, they became the first, second, third, and fourth men ever to see this sight.

“Holy shit Eunchae, you shave?” Eunwoo asked. Eunchae’s eyes looked at her private area with horror as she hadn’t considered this when she stripped.

“Yes... But only because I think it’s more hygienic. It’s not for any weird sexual thing, I promise.” She cried out as she covered her groin with her hands. “Stop looking at it!”

The guys complained that a stripper wouldn’t hide her nudity after stripping. “Stop calling me a stripper! That’s not what’s going on, and you know it!” Eunchae was getting flustered but knew her friends were trying to get a rise out of her.

“Keep going! Let’s see everything!” Chanwoo cheered.

“Do it, do it, do it,” Eunwoo started chanting as the others joined him. Half an hour ago, Eunchae was explaining to these guys how to place cards in the board game. Now, they were uniformly calling for her to remove the last piece of clothing she had on.

As she stood there with her hands at her crotch, the boys started to move to the other side of the table to get a view of her ass.

“Where are you going. Stop!” Eunchae cried. But soon, they were on all sides of her, and she was unable to prevent them from enjoying yet another aspect of her body.

After a few minutes of posing like she needed to pee, the teenager realized she couldn’t delay things any further.

“Fine! Just... I don’t know. Just don’t be weird,” she said, standing upright and removing her hands, exposing herself once more. All four men quickly rushed to view her womanhood again. She closed her eyes, and her hands went to her back. Despite having done this tens of thousands of times, her unsteady hands struggled to unhook her bra.

“Do you need help, Eunchae?” Chanwoo asked.

“No!” She cried. Getting stripped by her friends seemed even more shameful than stripping herself for them.

Finally, to her relief, she got it unhooked. But that relief was replaced with the horror that this meant her friends would now see her ample breasts as soon as she released her grip on the garment. She peeked out of one eye and saw all four long-time friends practically drooling over her chest in anticipation. As she debated her options, her shaky hands lost their grip, and before she knew it, her bra fell off. The weight of her boobs weighed on her chest, and at that moment, her friends came to know every intimate detail about her naked body.

After the accidental strip, Eunchae was frozen in place. The four guys were equally in shock as they studied the newly revealed source of their apparent long-time lust. The silence made Eunchae ask herself increasingly worried questions. Were they so quiet because her body is weird? Did they not like what they saw? Why did she now care if her friends liked her body or not? But the following sudden response of the men threw these negative thoughts out of her head.

“Holy shit, your tits are incredible!”

“Yeah, but how about that pussy? Damn!”

“I’ve got to see that ass again.”

“So... fucking... hot.”

All four of them simultaneously voiced their admiration for her body.

Eunchae became conflicted. Showing herself off like this was embarrassing, and she wished to get dressed again. But these compliments gave her feelings of warmth and pride—something she hadn’t felt before.

“I call first lap dance!” Chanwoo called out, breaking up the moment of self-discovery Eunchae was having.

“What? Lap dance? I’m not...,” she said, turning rapidly towards him. With her tits now free of the confines of clothing, they jiggled considerably. A fact that the guys noticed.

“You said you were going to be our stripper. Strippers give lap dances...” Chanwoo said as if the lap dance had already been agreed upon previously.

“I have been adamant that I am not your stripper. And it was your idea that I give lap dances. I never said I would!” Eunchae cried out. Her friends kept pushing the boundaries of this friendship at a quickening pace.

“That’s okay then. Thanks for letting us see your naked body, though. I can’t believe we are going to see you and your sister both naked on the same night,” Doyun said as he followed the others toward the door.

Eunchae was astounded at this. She had stripped fully naked for these guys, something she had never done before. And even with all that, they still wanted to seek out the sexual attention of her sister.

“Wait! I didn’t say I wasn’t willing to give lap dances,” she said, stopping her friends once again.

“Each of us can get one from you?” Eunwoo asked, seeking clarity.

The idea of rubbing her body against one of them was odd enough, but all four?

“Yeah...,” she said meekly.

Chanwoo moved a chair into the middle of the room, and one of the guys started playing music that was appropriate for a lap dance. Eunchae stood several feet away from her friend, still fully naked. A fact that she still couldn’t believe was true. She had never done anything like this, so she thought back to the various movies she had seen where the actresses gave someone a lap dance. Slowly, she started swaying her hips back and forth, which prompted loud cheers from the guys. Chanwoo’s eyes were locked on her tits which jiggled considerably even with Eunchae’s small movements.

“Come closer, Eunchae. Stand over my lap while you do that,” he said, waving her over. She tip-toed over slowly, hoping to keep as much distance as possible from her horny friend while she was in this nude state. Still, he beckoned her to continue until her tits were mere inches away from his face.

“Isn’t this a bit too close?” Eunchae asked.

“It’s a lap dance. You’re supposed to be as close as possible. Your sister would understand that,” Chanwoo said. Why would her sister know that, Eunchae wondered as her hip movements started up again. Her male friend was now close enough to see every detail of her tits. Weirder still was that he needed to lean his face in only a few inches to make contact with her chest. That thought got the inexperienced girl’s heart thumping.

Feeling emboldened by the erotic sight, Chanwoo reached out and put his hands on Eunchae’s bare hips.

“Chanwoo... what are you doing...,” Eunchae nervously asked him.

“It’s just your hips,” he replied.

The young man’s eyes diverted from her ample chest to her womanhood. In this embarrassing position, her pussy was situated just above his crotch. True, his parts were contained within his pants, but it was still in proximity to her very exposed parts. Her eyes were also drawn to an area in his pants that bulged out. She wasn’t so naive that she didn’t know that was. The sight of her nude body had given her friend, likely all of her friends, an erection. A response before today, she wasn’t sure anyone had ever prompted her body. As she stared, she became curious to see more, but shook that thought out of her head. All this time, Chanwoo continued to watch Eunchae’s pussy.

“Turn around. Let’s see that naked ass shake,” he said. Eunchae did as he asked, but she took note of the change in dynamic. Her friends weren’t asking her. They were now telling her what to do. She truly was their own personal stripper now. But again, she remembered why she was doing this. If not, her sister would be in this exact position now. Her nude body being drooled over by her friends, or worse.

After watching her cheeks shake back and forth for a few minutes, her friend had another command. “Bend over. All the way.”

Eunchae looked back at him with a scared look. “Bend over? But you’ll see... Do you really need to see me in such a state?” She asked. Chanwoo shrugged, but if she protested, he would probably bring up her sister again and her willingness to do almost anything. A fact she wasn’t sure was true, but rather not tested. Eunchae bent over, holding onto her friend’s knees for support. The flow of cold air on the newly exposed area told her what this position was doing. Chanwoo was getting a close-up view of her pussy from behind. Rustling sounds behind her also told her that the other three friends had joined him in enjoying this view. Every second in this state was humiliating, and it would take another four minutes before she was told she could stand up.

“My turn,” Minho announced, taking the seat that Chanwoo had just been in. Eunchae was being passed around from friend to friend like they all wanted a turn lusting over her. It made her feel used but wanted. Her mind was a storm of conflicting feelings. For now, she obeyed the lusty commands of her friends. All the while telling herself every sexual gaze or embarrassing pose, she did was one less than her sister would do later.

Minho had her sit on his lap, her back resting against his front.

“Don’t just sit there, move that butt into me. It’s a lap dance, after all,” he explained.

As her bare ass slid back and forth on his crotch, the feeling of his erect dick became unquestionably noticeable. While she had seen Chanwoo’s contained in his pants, with Minho, she was feeling with him. With her own ass, no less. Why was it that he felt no shame in getting felt up like this while she felt like she was being used? Where did this power dynamic arise from? But she did admit feeling his dick rest between her butt checks was an erotic and naughty sensation. But feelings that were overwhelmed by the shame she felt for acting in such a way.

“Turn around and face me. I want to see your tits as I feel you grind into my crotch,” he said with confidence. She turned around and sat on him while facing him.

“Would it kill you to say please? I’m still your friend, guys,” Eunchae complained as she started up lap grinding on him again.

“Please shake your tits in my face while your ass rubs against my dick,” Minho said.

Eunchae gave him an angry look, and he started laughing. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! That was a joke. You’re right. I’m getting carried away. We’re just having fun.” Despite the apology, though, he didn’t pull back on his expectation that she continues to stimulate him with her nude ass.

As Minho sat there with her tits swaying close to his face, he placed his hands on her lower back. Slowly, they moved south until they rested just above the start of her cheeks. “Where are your hands going there, Minho?” the naked teenager asked her aroused friend.

“I was thinking about getting some hand full of your ass. Or should I hold off and wait until I get my hands on your sister’s?” He asked.

Eunchae was well aware that they were using her over-protective attitude toward her sister to get her to agree to more sexual things. But they seemed genuine in their desire to get with her sister, so she had to play along. Even if it meant her ass would now be open to the groping of a guy she had trusted for so long. “If you have to...,” she muttered.

Within the instant she said that his hands went straight to her ass and squeezed, prompting her to yelp out of surprise. He felt them in every way possible and manipulated them in all directions. Her other three friends sat behind her and witnessed this occur. The weirdest was when he would push her cheeks apart.

“Stop doing that, Minho!” Eunchae complained, feeling him push them apart yet again.

“Why?” He asked.

“Because you’re showing...,” she started to say while trying to motion back subtly to her friends.

“If you’re worried his massaging of your ass is revealing your asshole to us, then so that you know, it is. We’ve seen it extensively now,” Eunwoo commented from behind her. Fantastic, Eunchae thought to herself. God forbid that her friends don’t see every square inch of her body.

Five minutes later and Minho had memorized how every nook and cranny of Eunchae’s ass felt. He then relented to give Eunwoo a turn at pushing Eunchae’s sexual boundaries. Eunwoo had her take the same position on him and wasted no time getting his own hands on her ample ass. Eunchae was now assuming all four of them were going to end up groping her naked ass. In fact, the whole rest of the night might consist of her cheeks getting felt up while stimulating her friends with a lap dance consisting mainly of crotch grinding. But this would be fine. She could handle this and waste away the night with this activity. Her sister would fall asleep in a few hours, free from the hands of her eager friends. What this meant for the future of Eunchae’s relationship with them was worrying. She doubted they would call this a one-time thing. More worrying was that Eunchae didn’t hate that idea.

While Eunwoo was enjoying the feeling of his friend’s behind, his eyes grew hungry for another part of her. “Lean in, Eunchae. I need to get my mouth all over those tits,” he said as his tongue dropped out of his mouth in anticipation.

“My... chest?” Eunchae said as she watched his tongue position itself inches from her nipples. Wasn’t seeing them enough? Wasn’t feeling her butt enough? Was anything enough for these guys? Why were her friends so horny for her and her sister?

“If you think you really need to in order to keep satisfied... okay,” the lap-dancing teen said while looking away.

The feeling of a warm, moist tongue rubbing all over her sensitive nipples made the young woman moan out involuntarily. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her other friends grow excited by her moan. Eunchae herself was surprised by this. Even more surprising was how continued stimulation of her breasts by his tongue garnered a continuous reaction from her.

Small jolts of pleasure shot out of her chest with each manipulation of her nipples with his mouth. When he took the entirety of one of them in his mouth, she again loudly moaned, and this confirmed to her male friend that she was enjoying the experience, much to her shame. His mouth was relentless, and she found herself grinding into his crotch just a bit harder and faster. Her tits grew warm while the tenderness in them reached levels that were causing the inexperienced teen to writhe on top of her friend.

Eunwoo continued to be bold and brought his hands to grope her chest next. Eunchae voiced no opposition to this and welcomed it. The feeling of his fingers pinching her nipples acted to relieve the building pleasure in her chest that was driving her crazy. The manipulation of her tits by his hands spread this pleasure throughout her body. She was grinding hard into his lap and breathing heavily as her mouth stayed agape. The view of the shy, embarrassed girl was replaced with one experiencing pleasure and actively leaning into those feelings.

It was only when Eunwoo commented, “Damn, you’re horny,” that Eunchae was knocked back to her usual self. She became very aware of her moans and how welcoming she had been of her friend’s touch on her naked body. She looked at him with wide, shocked eyes.

Not knowing what else to do, she suggested, “Maybe we give Doyun a turn.”

Eunchae stood up off Eunwoo, her whole body shivering a bit from the impact of having her breasts sexually stimulated. The last of her friends not to get their lap dance yet was Doyun, who sat on the chair with a smile indicating he had a plan in store for the now-flustered teen. “Sit on my lap, facing away from me. If you enjoyed what Eunwoo did to you, you’re going to love what I have in store.”

Eunchae didn’t know how to react to this. Why did Doyun need to do anything to her? Wasn’t this about their pleasure? But she was enamoured with curiosity and wondered if he could give her the same rush of joy that Eunwoo had. She took a seat on him just as he had asked.

Just like with her previous two friends, the erection contained in his pants was readily apparent as she felt it on her ass. She suspected that Chanwoo, the final friend, would soon give her the opportunity to feel his penis as well. “Just relax and lean back against me,” Doyun said in a calming voice.

His hands started at her sides. While far from an intimate location, Eunchae was so unused to male contact that even having his hands on the bare skin of her side felt intense. As she leaned back, he nestled his face on her neck and started lightly kissing it as his hands moved up and down her sides from her hips to the sides of her bosoms. Her legs squirmed as the feeling of his lips on her neck was divine. It also made her appreciate that men had seen her naked and felt so many areas of her body, but she had still never kissed a man. That realization made her feel whorish, but as Doyun’s hands migrated to become the second man in the last half hour to grope her naked tits, she didn’t care anymore.

“Aahhhh,” Eunchae moaned out as her tits, neck, and most intimate areas tingled with pleasure she never knew her body could feel. Her reasons for doing this were long forgotten. All she knew was she didn’t want this to stop. And Doyun didn’t stop as the next minutes consisted of nothing but her tits getting worked over by the strong hands of her friend while she squired on the shaft of his cock. A cock that consumed her thoughts. It was ever so tempting to suggest possible next steps, not caring that she had an audience. But only Doyun knew where things were going to end up between them.

As Eunchae’s mind was adrift in lust, she failed to notice the downward movement of her close friend’s hands. Soon, his fingers made contact with the area that even her own hands rarely touched. The nude girl shot up as she felt two fingers run along the length of her labia. “Oh fuck!” She yelled out. Coming back to reality fast, she looked down to confirm where her friend’s hands had shifted. She grabbed them and held them in place to prevent further stimulation of that area.

“Whoa there. I think that’s taking things too far. I’m letting you grope my chest extensively. Why do you need to touch me there?”

“You have a beautiful body, Eunchae. Your face, chest, butt, and your pussy as well. Why wouldn’t we want to touch you there, too?” He asked.

“Thanks... but touching me there provokes... feelings. I’m not ready for intensity like that,” the still-panting woman admitted.

“Are you sure you aren’t ready? You were plenty wet from what I could feel.”

“No! I... it was... no!” Eunchae said, not liking that this detail was spoken out loud. “I’m not ready!”

Doyun moved his hands away from the groin of his friend. “I understand. That was asking too much of you. You should probably get off me then,” he said.

Eunchae was cautious of this. “Why? I didn’t say you had to stop feeling my other areas.”

“And those areas are fun. But I’m ready for more, and if you don’t want to progress, then we are going to...,” but Eunchae finished his thought.

“My sister. I got it... Actually, I am ready for you to touch my... private area,” Eunchae said.

“Are you sure?” Doyun questioned. Eunchae didn’t answer with words but grabbed his hands and brought them back to her pussy, all while opening up her legs.

Doyun resumed rubbing two fingers along her labia, but just ever so lightly. Still, Eunchae let out a moan that she worried would echo all the way to her sister’s room. Her friend repeated this motion again, then again, and settled into a steady pace of finger stimulation. As Doyun pointed out, Eunchae provided a lot of lubrication. Ever since she started getting touched by Chanwoo, this had been occurring, much to her embarrassment. But there was no hiding that from Doyun.

The build-up of pleasure that had been driving the teenager mad from just the chest groping. But with her stimulation now vaginal in nature, this build-up felt more intense. Something was happening in her, and with what her friend’s fingers were doing, it was happening fast. During a downward motion along her vaginal lips, one of Doyun’s fingers did a sudden turn and penetrated her slightly. This sent a rush through her legs that caused them to spasm. He repeated this maneuver and got the same reaction from the young woman. His finger went deeper and longer each time and was joined by a neighboring finger. Eunchae’s reaction only grew, and soon her muscles all over her body tensed up from this new feeling of having someone inside her pussy.

Eunchae’s hands had a death grip on the chair that supported them. She continued to writhe on her friend, grinding her ass uncontrollably into his dick still contained in his pants. The relentless finger assault on her pussy sent pulse after pulse of pleasure through her body. These pulses grew more intense with less time between them. Soon, the pleasure was constant, and she lost awareness of the world around her. The ecstasy grew to new levels, and Eunchae wondered if relief would ever be found. Her mind was filled with perverse thoughts, and she thought about all of the unspeakable things she could do with the cock that she felt between her ass cheeks.

Finally, the dam burst open, and her body, from her spine to her toes, convulsed in pleasure. Her concern about her sister possibly hearing her was long forgotten, and she wailed out in beautiful agony. As the orgasm relented its hold on her, she collapsed onto her friend, who grabbed her to prevent her body from sliding off. Eunchae had experienced something she didn’t know was possible.

She also didn’t know how long she had been on top of him as her friends watched her bare chest heave up and down. As her breath got under control, she turned her head and was face to face with the guy who had given her this sexual glee. She put her lips together and contacted his, an event that proved to be her first kiss. She reflected on how embarrassing this was later, having been given an orgasm by a guy before kissing them. A situation that would soon be repeated.

After sharing a few more kisses, they looked into each other’s eyes with bliss until Doyun asked, “Blowjob?”

Hearing such a brazen request caused Eunchae to shoot to her feet and off the lap of her friend. However, her legs were in no state to hold her weight, and she fell on her ass, putting her in a spread-legged pose that her friends enjoyed seeing. The nude girl wasn’t concerned with her body being exposed at the moment, though.

“A blowjob? What? From me?” She asked in her post-orgasm-confused state. She worried that while getting fingered earlier, when she imagined herself doing just such an act, she may have unknowingly vocalized a desire to take on such a task. But that wasn’t the case. This was simply a guy wanting to experience a blowjob from his increasingly sexually active female friend.

“Or your sister. Man, can you guys imagine her luscious lips wrapped around your...”

“Stop. Stop. You guys are trying to convince me to blow you by saying you’re going to seek oral from my sister otherwise. Seriously. Can you just agree not to seek out sexual acts from my sister? Is that too big of an ask,” Eunchae pleaded while on the floor with an exposed, shimmering pussy.

The four guys looked at each other. “Eunchae, we understand that you aren’t that interested in sex, events that occurred just five minutes ago notwithstanding. But we are. If your sister is willing to engage in blowjobs with all four of us. That’s her business. I’m sorry you feel that we are trying to manipulate you into doing anything. We aren’t. But we also aren’t going to turn down anything you are offering,” Minho said in a well-meaning tone.

As Eunchae thought about what her friend had just said, she began to accept the reality. She had done some embarrassing things, but there was no need to go further. Her sister was a woman, and these guys were men. Everyone was of legal age, and no cheating would occur. She wouldn’t get in the way of whatever it was they wanted to do with each other.

But then her mind visualized her sister being surrounded by the four cocks of her friends as she went back and forth sucking on them all. Her friends groped her naked body just as they had Eunchae’s, giving her sister the same feelings of uncontrollable lust. Eventually, they unload the contents of their cocks in her mouth and on her. From there, they progress to even more sensual activities. No! Eunchae couldn’t accept such an event occurring. And it was in her power to stop it.

“Get your dick out. I’ll suck it,” she said with her voice cracking. Doyun stood up, looking like he, well, looking like he just had his long-term female friend, whom he had long been attracted to, offer to blow him. Eunchae, meanwhile, was coming to terms with the many new sensations she was about to experience, all centered around the penis of her trusted friend.

With Eunchae on the floor, Doyun stood on the ground next to her. “How about you get my dick out. That will be fun,” he suggested. Not knowing how to argue otherwise, the nude teenage girl brought her shaky hands to the belt of Doyun. She fumbled with it for a while but got it loose, bringing her ever closer to the object of her soon-to-be oral fixation.

As she reached for the zipper of his pants, her hand slid by the bulge in his pants where his cock lay, sending a shiver up her arm. But she knew that in no time, she would be doing more than just glancing at his shaft. The zipper came down, and she unbuttoned his jeans, leaving a thin layer of cloth between her and his manhood. She could have easily pulled down his boxers, but took the opportunity to delay the appearance of his manly feature a few more seconds.

Released from the confines of his pants, his erection became much more noticeable, giving Eunchae a clearer idea of its size and shape. Seeing her pause and stare, Doyun checked in with her soon-to-be friend/lover. “Everything okay, Eunchae?”

His words almost startled the young woman, and she stammered in response. “What? Oh yeah. Everything is good. Just looking at... I mean, not looking at. But your penis is. Your dick looks good. I mean, no. No, not no... I’m going to shut up and take off your boxers.”

As she dwelled on the embarrassing word salad she just said in reference to her friend’s cock, she pulled down the boxers and, looking up, was taken aback at the sight of her first in-person penis. A very erect one at that, thanks to her efforts earlier. “Fuck...,” she said as her mouth when agape at its sight. It was huge, or at least she thought it was. The idea of fitting into... certain orifices of hers was intimidating, and she was thankful that wasn’t what she was preparing for.

But what she was committed to required her to do more than gawk at it, although she was enjoying her viewing of it. This raised questions, though, that Eunchae realized she needed to answer. How the fuck do you give a blowjob. She knew the obvious parts. You put the penis in your mouth. But was that all there was to it? Was she about to embarrass herself by giving the world’s worst blowjob, all while her friends watched? While giving it to a friend...

She reached up and gently took hold of the base of the shaft with her hand. She was doing it. She was actually holding a real dick in her hand. It was... fleshy. An obvious observation, but it was the best way she felt to describe it. It was firm but pleasantly smooth. She ran her hand up and down it a bit just to get a feel for it, and Doyun reacted positively to this. “God, that feels good. Your hands are so soft on my dick Eunchae,” he said, smiling. The naive girl was surprised at this. Was she actually giving her friend some sexual pleasure? Even with that small amount of effort?

This emboldened the nude teenager currently on her knees. Doyun didn’t ask for a handjob. He asked for a blowjob. So, there was no point in delaying things. Eunchae was going to take a dick into her mouth. She metaphorically dove in and took as much of his length into her as she could without risking ganging. Her lips then wrapped around his shaft, and she slowly pulled away from him, feeling his smooth skin glide along her.

“Fuck...,” Doyun groaned, voicing his approval of her first foray into getting face fucked. Eunchae considered it official that she had now lost her mouth virginity, if that could be considered a thing.

She started repeating this movement, driving the portion of his dick that fit in and out of her mouth, all while using her lips to massage all sides of the cock. After getting used to this, she decided to introduce her tongue to her friend’s dick. As she thrusted his dick once again into her mouth, her tongue swiped a quick lick in. Her taste buds were soon flooded with the taste of the pre-cum leaking out of him. It was an enjoyable salty sensation. But tasting this fluid reminded her of another component, which was Doyun’s sperm. While it was a small amount, for now, the idea of having her close friend’s sperm inside her was intimidating. In the right place, those little swimmers could cause her a lot of trouble. But her mouth was safe, and all the sperm Doyun could supply in this orifice wouldn’t get her pregnant. Despite her extreme nervousness in engaging in such an act, Eunchae admitted to herself that she was enjoying the experience, which was good as she had three friends likely eager for their turns.

As she got more creative with her tongue’s role in the blowjob, Doyun took hold of her head with his hands and started directing her to move faster and deeper. Soon her lips were running rapidly over the cock, and Doyun was breathing hard. Just as the young Eunchae wondered how much longer this might go on, her mouth became flooded with a warm liquid that overwhelmed her taste buds with the previous subtle flavor of his pre-cum. Eunchae had successfully made her friend orgasm, with her mouth no less. Thus returning the orgasm he had given her just earlier.

She pulled away from him, releasing his dick from her mouth. She briefly looked around as her mouth contained billions of his sperm until she finally swallowed, not knowing what else she could do. “Fan-fucking-tastic Eunchae,” Doyun said, needing to take a seat in the chair previously used for lap dances.

“Thanks. I guess,” the teenager said after having her blowjob skills complimented. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to be good at this or not, but for now, she was glad the job was done. For one of these guys, at least.

She looked over at her other three friends in a different light than she had in the past. At this moment, they represented dicks that she needed to make cum.

“So... am I blowing one of you guys next?” Eunchae asked in maybe the most embarrassing question of her life.

“I’ll take a boobjob,” Eunwoo announced, standing up. A boobjob? Was there a menu of options that Eunchae was offering that she wasn’t aware of? Was her job tonight to fulfill all of their sexual requests? Still, considering she just took a dick in the mouth, it seemed to her that pleasuring one with your chest was a lesser ask.

“How do we do this?” she asked. Eunwoo was already pulling down his boxers when she asked, revealing the second cock of the day for the inexperienced 18-year-old girl with a stomach full of her friend’s cum. He laid on the floor as his cock awaited two large tits to surround it. This second dick looked no less large than the last one. And no less alluring either, Eunchae thought in the back of her mind. She was a bit excited to feel it.

She got on her knees and leaned over the fleshy staff. “Do I just rub my chest over it like this?” She asked as she positioned the dick between her ample tits. The idea that her body was ideal for such an activity was too much for her to accept.

Eunchae pushed her boobs inward together, compressing them around the dick, and started moving herself up and down the shaft of her friend. This was another first she had given up tonight, although she was certain ‘boob virginity’ was not a thing. She was almost able to surround the perimeter of his manhood completely. The feeling of having this male feature between her chest was odd—a combination of naughty and shameful. Two hours ago, if her friends had asked her to wear something that showed a bit of cleavage, she would have denied them and run off in total embarrassment at even being asked such a thing. Now she was fully naked and currently trying to induce her friend to cum by stimulating him with her tits. Eunchae was worried about what might happen in the next two hours.

Pre-cum from Eunwoo soon coated her bosom. Again, she thought about her friend’s sperm and how another part of her body was being introduced to it. Another safe area, but not headed in the direction she liked.

“Lie on your back,” he said as Eunwoo was looking to switch things around. Being requested to lie on your back fully naked by your friend, currently sporting an exposed erection, worried Eunchae, but she complied. Surely, he wasn’t taking things to that level. Once she was horizontal on her back, the eager male straddled her over her stomach and plopped down his cock between her chest. He then used his own hands to squeeze her tits together and resume the tit job. In control now, Eunwoo was much more vigorous with pumping his cock between her tits. In addition, having both his hands squeezing her tits while a dick used them for pleasure was having an erotic impact on the young lady.

Just as Doyun and Eunwoo gave her tit-stimulated pleasure during the lap dance, this boob job was proving no different. As she saw a dick thrust towards her face repeatedly, Eunchae began to squirm from the barrage of pleasure her chest was feeling. One orgasm was shameful enough to have in front of her friends, but a second one? Especially one derived from such an act would be too much to bear. But the possibility of such a thing happening disappeared as Eunwoo pulled himself out from between her tits. But she then appreciated that he hadn’t finished and wondered if maybe he didn’t plan to. But then the feeling of warm liquid spraying onto her chest brought her up to date with her friend’s plan. He was cumming directly onto his chest. The sight of a dick cumming was breath-taking to the inexperienced teenager. It shot out with force in multiple bursts. Each pump that hit her made her gasp as she appreciated what this liquid was and how erotic this act was. The smell of the cum hit her, and she found it invigorating and wanting more of it. If not on her chest, then other areas...

The last of his seed dripped out onto her, and Eunchae knew she had finished pleasing yet another friend. But two more remained. “I should go clean up,” she said, sitting up.

“No! Keep it on your chest,” Chanwoo said, with Minho nearby, shaking his head in agreement.

“What? But...,” Eunchae started to argue but quickly relented. If this is what they wanted, fine. She didn’t need to hear about how her sister would happily wear their cum with pride.

Having regained her strength from her orgasm earlier, Eunchae stood up. While wearing the cum of Eunwoo on her tits, she asked Chanwoo and Minho, “So what do you guys want to do?” Eunchae regretted her language as she was starting to sound like she was making herself free to be used for their sexual pleasure. Although, isn’t that what she was doing?

“Get on your knees,” Minho said. Figuring that meant he was volunteering to be next and wanted to feel her lips on his cock, she complied.

However, both men approached her while starting to unzip their pants. “Wait. Who am I blowing?” Eunchae asked as she watched both guys’ pants fall to the floor.

“Both,” Chanwoo said as he pulled his cock out, followed by Minho revealing his.

Eunchae understood. Earlier, she had visualized almost this exact scenario, albeit with her sister doing this instead of her. With the amount of cocks she had handled doubling, the nude teenager took hold of each shaft in either hand and started stroking them. They felt remarkably similar to Doyun’s. From here on, anytime she hung out with her friends, she would know the size, texture, and in most cases, taste of their cocks. Even in the most innocent of interactions, that knowledge would pop into her head in addition to images of the many acts she was partaking in tonight with them.

While she had two hands that were up to the task of jacking off her friends, she had but a single mouth. Eunchae elected to have Chanwoo become the second dick to penetrate her mouth. As her lips rolled over the bare skin of his manhood and her tongue teased his tip, she came to appreciate his cock had a different taste than her previous oral partner. His, likely from the healthy amount of pre-cum, had a bit more of a metallic taste. That made her curious about what Minho tasted like, and she switched her mouth over to his and found it to have more of the salty taste that Doyun shared. She wondered then about the only cock in the room she hadn’t sucked on, Eunwoo’s. But she realized this was embarrassing to consider. She would not ask to give her friend a blowjob just to compare his taste to the others.

Over the next five minutes, Eunchae worked the two cocks with her hand while giving them oral pleasure as equally as she could. “God, I’m getting close,” Chanwoo moaned.

“Me too. Your mouth is heaven, Eunchae,” Minho said.

“Okay, so where do you want to...,” the teen asked before her question was thoroughly answered. Cum out of both dicks sprayed onto her face.

“Don’t stop your hands,” Minho commanded as cum continued to splatter over the surprised face of Eunchae. As the last of it hit her, the boys again complimented her ability to get them to cum, saying she had a talent. A talent that the cum covered friend wasn’t sure she welcomed.

But Eunchae breathed easily, knowing that her friends were sexually satisfied and her sister was free of the horny hands and cum of her friends. “Now that everyone has been... serviced? Can we get back to the game now?” She asked as she looked towards the table. She expected they would want her to play naked and keep her cum coating on. That was fine, and the smell of cum continued to intoxicate her. But the guys didn’t give her the immediate confirmation of that plan.

“Eunchae. I think you’re underestimating the sexual appetite of men,” Doyun said. She turned to face him and was met with her still-naked friend, sporting another erection.

“You’re kidding me...,” she said as she remembered taking his cum into her mouth just half an hour ago.

“What can I say. I’m enjoying the view,” Doyun said, looking over his friend’s seeded body.

“Okay, fine. I guess I’m blowing you guys more,” Eunchae said as she took one last longing look at her board game that remained unplayed. Although she didn’t resent the idea of four men focusing their sexual lust on her again.

“Your blowjob was, well, orgasmic, Eunchae. But we’re looking for the real deal now. Something I don’t think you are willing to do. So you sit tight here, and we’re going to go hang out with your sister for a bit,” Minho said.

“You mean you’re going to go fuck her,” Eunchae said, thinking that now that she was covered in cum, the time to stop glossing over what people really meant has passed.

“Yes, we want to have sex with your sister.”

The four men got up, not bothering to put their clothes on. Eunchae wondered if they were really going to solicit sex from her sister while naked like this? But as she thought about it, the sight of four naked and erect boys outside of her bedroom might make her sister all the easier to convince her sister to engage in sex. Eunchae had an obvious path to avoid this. Offer her own body in place of her sister’s. But that would mean giving up her big V-card. Her real virginity. She couldn’t get that back. But did she really care about holding on to it? She had just engaged in a five-way blowjob orgy. Was claiming technical innocence worth knowing her friends would soon fill her sister’s willing womb with their cum?

Once again, she stopped them right as they started leaving the room.

“Wait...,” the nervous virgin said.

Her four naked guy friends turned around. “Yes?” Chanwoo asked.

Eunchae paused and couldn’t get the words out. “You know what I’m going to say. Don’t make me actually say it,” she said in a shaky voice.

“I need to hear you say it,” Chanwoo said to the nods of the others.

“Y—you... you can fuck me,” she muttered.

“Aren’t you a virgin?” Eunwoo asked, speculating on the sexual experience of his friend.

“Yeah... but we got to start sometime, right?” The four nudes looked at each other.

“I don’t know if you really want to do this, Eunchae. Maybe you should just let us get with your sister and save yourself for a future boyfriend,” Doyun mentioned.

“I know we’ve done a lot of stuff tonight, but I agree. I don’t think this is something you really want,” Chanwoo added. Eunchae was getting frustrated hearing this. She wasn’t drunk, being blackmailed, or anything else. She is giving her consent, and these big dick jerks are still doubting her intentions. She needed to be extra clear.

“I’m telling you that I want to feel your cock inside my pussy! Fuck me now and fuck me hard, you jerk!” She yelled out.

Eunchae felt her pride sink to a new low, but it had the intended effect. “Okay, Eunchae, chill. We will have sex with you. But which of us do you want to have sex with first?” Eunwoo asked, holding his hands up to calm down the eager teenage girl.

“Why do I have to choose?” Eunchae protested.

“Because usually girls choose who they lose their virginity to,” Chanwoo said. The nude girl couldn’t argue with that, but by what logic could she even pick? Whoever she chooses would probably send an unintended message that she felt that one was more attractive or appealing to her. Up until an hour ago, when she started feeling their dicks, Eunchae never saw these guys in that light.

Her eyes were drawn to their dicks which were all now erect. She swore they looked even bigger and had trouble believing they would fit inside her. Not that she had ever explored fitting things in that part of her. But she realized she had been checking out their cock for a while and turned around in embarrassment.

Picking them based on their size would be the last thing she would want to do. It’s not like they all wouldn’t end up fucking her anyway. Oh god, all four of her friends are going to fuck her tonight, Eunchae realized. Why wouldn’t they? They had all wanted a lap dance from her and afterward wanted her to make them cum. She had agreed to a full-on orgy with her best friends. So many words popped into her head that she would use to describe women who partake in such activities. Descriptors that she would soon apply to herself.

“I’ll just pick random. We have dice, after all,” she said, walking to the table. At least a small part of the game would be used, she thought. It would be weird as from here on, every time she rolled the dice playing, she would remember how she used it to decide who broke her hymen and made her a ‘real woman.’ But as she grabbed the dice, she saw the bag of bird eggs, which served as an important reminder to her.

“You guys have condoms?”

All four shook their heads.

“Well, we can’t have sex without condoms, so I guess it’s not happening,” Eunchae said. That would give her a short reprieve from giving up the goods to these guys, but she knew next time they would come over, they would probably bring a pack or something obscene.

“Your sister would probably let us fuck her without condoms,” Chanwoo remarked.

Why were these guys making so many assumptions about the sexual nature of her sister? Eunchae fretted. But would her sister go so far as to forgo protection to get with guys younger than her? What worried her most was that she knew for a fact that, like her, her sister wasn’t on protection. A year ago, Eunchae’s sister came to her asking if she would like to start birth control. Eunchae declined, saying she wasn’t planning on being sexually active. Her sister remarked she wasn’t on birth control for the same reason.

“Then promise you’ll pull out and cum on my chest. You guys seemed to enjoy doing that,” Eunchae offered as a compromise. This made her unbelievably nervous as she knew pre-cum contained sperm. In addition, this would require a lot of trust in some guys proving to be extraordinarily horny.

“Eunchae, your sister will probably let us…” Chanwoo started to say before the virgin girl objected.

“If you’re suggesting my sister will let a group of teenage boys cum inside her and risk a pregnancy just for sexual satisfaction, you’re wrong!”

But Eunchae wasn’t sure about this. It’s not like she has discussed anything like this with her sister. Given that she existed at all, though, proved that her sister was capable of agreeing to unprotected sex with men she wasn’t married to. Given her built-up lust, would she repeat this mistake? With her sister’s teenage friends, even?

“So you’re saying the only way you guys won’t cum inside my sister is if I let you guys cum inside me,” Eunchae asked.

“That’s not fair! You make it sound like we are making you do this. Eunchae, if you don’t want to fuck us, then don’t!” Doyun complained.

“Then don’t have unprotected sex with my sister!”

“Be reasonable. We’re guys. All we think about is sex. If a hot woman is willing to let us have sex with her, protection or no, we’re going to take her up on it. I’m sorry that it happens to be your sister,” Eunwoo said, laying out their position.

“But I’m not on birth control. Do you guys really want to risk getting me pregnant?” Eunchae asked as her mind started to panic that she was even considering this.

“It’s not that I want to impregnate you. I want to cum inside a beautiful woman tonight. It seems we have two candidates,” Eunwoo said.

What the hell was happening, thought Eunchae. How did tonight go from a board game about birds to her friends willing to impregnate her or her sister? And what had happened to her in these few hours that she was taking this willingness as a compliment and becoming very tempted by it.

A child would change almost everything Eunchae had planned in her life. College, a husband, and even where she would live would all be drastically changed by getting pregnant at age 18. But the alternative was her sister getting pregnant. By the seed of her friends. God, would one of these guys become her brother-in-law? Oh god, would she have ended up blowing her brother-in-law?

“I’m not saying I want to... yet. But if we did this... and something were to... take hold inside me. Would you guys take responsibility?”

All four of them voiced enthusiastic agreement with that.

“Are you kidding? I’d happily!” Minho said. Eunchae wondered just what that meant to her friends. Were they indicating they would marry her? Or just raise their child? Were they saying that to get in her pants? Even though she wasn’t wearing any right now? Today was proving mind-bogglingly life-changing to the sexually inexperienced teen girl.

“I don’t know if I’m ready for a baby, but I think I’m ready to go all the way with you guys,” Eunchae finally admitted.

This was crazy. She was basically asking these guys to impregnate her to prevent herself from getting a brother-in-law. As per her plan, she headed to the game table and rolled the dice. The four guys continued to look shocked that their friend, who had shown no interest in any sexual before, was now using a board game piece to pick which of them would get the first shot at impregnating her. Assigning each guy to a bird food picture on the die, the luck of the roll favored Eunwoo. He would be the first to partake in the most intimate of actions with his friend.

A wide-eyed Eunchae went and lay on the floor, deciding this was where it would happen. Eunwoo inched closer to her, but still questioned things. “I only want to do this with you, Eunchae, if you really do,” he asked as his erection showed his body as fully onboard.

Eunchae didn’t want to go through this whole exercise with her friend doubting her resolve, so she made things clear.

“Take that cock of yours and fuck my pussy with it until I squeal from cumming. Then fill my womb with so much cum there will be no doubt that I’m pregnant.”

Eunchae's direct words took all four men by surprise. But as the night advanced, none questioned her desire to do this again.

But the soon-to-be ex-virgin’s confidence was just for show. In reality, she eyed his cock with immense anxiety. Both in terms of its size and the millions of little swimmers it would soon dispense. All it would take is for one to find its target. Her eggs. She wasn’t one to keep track of her cycles, but from a quick estimation in her head, this was not the day to be doing this.

Eunwoo joined her on the floor and climbed on top of her, putting his face next to hers. “I’m going to take this slow, okay?” He informed his soon-to-be lover. She put on a brave face and gave him a nod like she had done this a hundred times before. Given how horny these guys were, that scenario might become the truth soon.

Eunchae felt the entrance to her womb get tickled, but she knew this wasn’t any finger touching her. Soon, the appendage in question started applying pressure, and she took one last breath as a virgin. Eunwoo’s dick penetrated her, and a shot of pain sent a clear message to the young woman. She was fucking her friend. True to his word, Eunwoo didn’t immediately start pounding her mound despite her early boast that she wanted them to ‘fuck her hard.’ The pain was more than she expected, but was fading fast. The cock in her pulled out slowly and then back in. This generated new pain, but it was less intense and faded even faster. Eunchae appreciated that the worst was over and was thankful that Eunwoo was proving to be such a thoughtful and skillful sexual partner.

He continued to slide in and out of her, with the pain becoming almost non-existent. The fading of the pain was a relief, but her major concern still loomed large. Even now, she knew sperm was already leaking out of the cock currently fucking her. It was a small amount, but would soon be joined by a flood of fellow swimmers. A flood with one goal. To impregnate her. But for now, Eunwoo was picking up the pace and delving deeper into her with each stroke. They continued to be face to face, and while she tried to look away or close her eyes. However, often their eyes would meet. Was it weird that she wasn’t kissing him? Or if she tried to, would that make it weirder?

Eunchae had expected sex to be much like when she got fingered earlier by Doyun, but that was proving not to be the case. The feeling of getting stretched out over and over by the cock was... unusually pleasant. As well as the friction caused by the movement of his dick inside her. While she still would have liked to be using protection, the skin-on-skin contact was so intimate. The recently devirginized teenager felt every textured detail of him slide inside her. Despite her earlier appreciation of him taking it slow, she was now finding herself eager for him to go faster and harder. While not something she consciously decided to do, her hips started humping in unison with Eunwoo’s thrust, driving him to go deeper into her.

As she was getting comfortable with the experience, a facial expression of pleasure reminded the young woman of the reality of the situation. Eunwoo was approaching his limit, and with that event, the potential impregnation. Feeling the cock inside her, Eunchae had second thoughts about her earlier acceptance of becoming a sister-in-law. Why was she doing this? She could ask her friend to withdraw, and he would comply. Her virginity wouldn’t be restored, but she would be left without this life-changing event occurring. With that thought, Eunwoo’s dick reached a new depth within her, and Eunchae let out a moan, and her legs stirred underneath her current lover. This redirected her attention to the three friends watching the sex show she was freely giving them. Three guys were watching but really waiting for their turn. And if not Eunchae, they would be watching her sister take on the nine-inch cock in her pussy. Her sister would be the one about to get inseminated.

Seeing Eunwoo’s face contort further as his orgasm was approaching rapidly, Eunchae steeled her nerves. This was the right decision.

“Get me pregnant,” she said to Eunwoo.

She pulled his face into hers and kissed him passionately right when she felt the sensation of a warm liquid enter her. Over the next minute, he stayed inside her while enjoying the feel of her lips on his. All the while, the last of his cum, and potent sperm entered the womb of his friend. Eunchae had been inseminated.

Eunchae pulled her face back and looked at Eunwoo with eyes the size of frisbees. As he withdrew from her, leaving her on the floor naked and cum filled, she calmed herself down. Would one load of cum really get her pregnant? But then she saw the eager faces of her friends, one load on her foot. Even Eunwoo was talking about doing more.

“That was so incredible. I’m going to focus on getting ready for my next turn,” he said, taking a seat on the floor to watch the next sex show Eunchae would be starring in.

Next time, she thought? How many times was she going to get fucked today? Minho announced that it was agreed he would go next. Apparently, Chanwoo and Doyun had something planned, which made Eunchae greatly curious. But she couldn’t dwell on that too much as she was about to experience the feeling of yet another long-term friend cumming inside her. Wanting to keep things fresh, he asked that she ride him on top of his dick. As Eunchae saw him lying on the floor with his erection pointing straight upward, she wondered why it was necessary to change things up with a girl you haven’t had sex with yet. A thought that instantly left her lead as she lowered herself onto her newest lover.

Being on top this time, Minho’s cock was able to penetrate her fully right off the bat. A feeling that the newly introduced teenager didn’t appreciate until now. She let out a loud gasp, and her whole body shivered briefly.

“God, your pussy feels so good and wet,” Minho said as his hands took hold of her tits.

That was not a compliment Eunchae had expected her to hear today, if ever in her life. But as the shock of the giant cock entering her wore off, she gradually started lifting herself up and down on it. In this position, she was mostly in control. Minho was eagerly lifting his hips to encourage her to pick up the pace.

Eunchae found her rhythm and was sliding the inside of her vaginal walls against her second cock of the day. The same pleasurable experiences she encountered with Eunwoo resumed. But with her nerves about getting impregnated relaxed somewhat, she was able to focus on chasing these feelings. As she humped the equally large dick, she manipulated the angle of attack to maximize her pleasure. This worked maybe too well, and as the tip rubbed against a very sensitive area she found, Eunchae let out a loud “Fuck,” and her ass twitched as a wave of sexual glee spread out from that spot. Taking a minute to recover, she started her humping back up, telling herself to avoid doing that again as it was just too intense.

However, not twenty seconds later, her curiosity and lust got the better of her, and she manipulated her body to experience that again. Ready for it this time, the next wave that hit her didn’t interrupt her rhythm, and she let out a long moan that she felt a bit embarrassed about. Opening her eyes, she saw the teasing face of Minho smiling back.

“Shut up! I’m letting my four best friends try to impregnate me. I’m not going to be shamed for enjoying myself,” Eunchae said before closing her eyes again.

Minutes later, the tip of the dick was hitting this orgasmic spot constantly, and the newly introduced to sex teenager was in a continuous state of moaning. Her lover was no longer teasing her as he was focused on not cumming early to the sexually charged sight he witnessed on top of him. Eunchae was humping his dick with a purpose. Wave after wave was crashing throughout her body until it became a steady stream of ecstasy. She used her hands to ensure Minho kept a firm grip on her tits as it was adding to her full-body pleasure. She knew she was building up to something grand and needed to see it to its mind-blowing conclusion. Her vision was starting to go white, and any doubt, shame, or worries she had been now gone. A live news crew could walk into the room, and she wouldn’t stop driving her pussy into this dick. Finally, after one last slide of the dick inside her, the build-up exploded.

“Coming, coming,” Eunchae muttered as she felt her legs convulse and her toes curl. The pleasure was overwhelming, and she worried this state she was in would drive her mad if it continued, but she simultaneously wanted it never to stop.

But it finally did, and she fell into her second sexual partner’s chest, gasping for air after she realized she had forgotten to breathe during her orgasm. It was only a minute later that she questioned whether Minho had even finished, but the feeling of fresh liquid leaking out of her confirmed it. As the logical side of her brain booted back up, she knew this meant she had added another name to the list of potential fathers of the child she soon expected to start growing inside her.

Eunchae rolled off of Minho and onto the floor. That was the second orgasm of her life, and her friends had witnessed both on this same night. That one was more intense, too, and she worried about what would happen if these boys got her there a third time. Because she was certain, they wanted to try. And try all night.

As she lay on the floor looking upwards, two dicks came into her view, and she knew Doyun and Chanwoo were standing over her. “How are you doing?” Doyun asked her. She knew he was probably eager to feel her pussy with his dick. Eunchae didn’t vocalize this, but she was keen to let them try after the heaven on earth she experienced.

“Who is next,” she asked, hoping she wasn’t starting to sound like a sex-crazed slut, asking for her next dick.

“Both of us,” Chanwoo said with a devilish smile.

“What the fuck does that mean,” Eunchae said, sitting up. He didn’t immediately answer her, and Eunchae looked around the room at her friends to try to understand what she was missing.

Her last lover finally explained as he lay on the spot where they had just made love. “Chanwoo and Doyun want to fuck you in your ass and pussy at the same time. They want to double penetrate you,” he explained.

“My ass? While I’m getting fucked? I just lost my virginity twenty minutes ago. Now my ass needs to get penetrated? Isn’t fucking my pussy enough?” She fretted.

Chanwoo and Doyun looked at each other. “As we keep saying, Eunchae, you don’t have to do this. We will happily go to your...,” Doyun started to say, using the same excuse that they have been using all night.

“No! My sister may be willing to have sex with you guys. She may even be willing to have unprotected sex. But I know my sister. She isn’t up for getting ass fucked by her sister’s friends while another takes a shot at impregnating her at the same time!” But once again, Eunchae asked herself if she really knew that. What sister knows the sexual kinks of their sister?

“We’ll let you know what she says when we offer,” Chanwoo said, leading Doyun out of the room.

“How about you fuck my butt one on one?” Eunchae offered. Oh god, did she just offer her asshole now?

“I might take you up on that afterward, but for now, we’re sticking with our plan,” Doyun said without even turning around.

“Why does it have to be at the same time,” Eunchae cried out.

“It’s hard to explain. But once you do it, you’ll know,” Chanwoo replied.

“Then show me,” she said, going red in the cheeks at her sudden decision. Hearing that, the two boys finally turned around. “If it’s difficult to put into words, then demonstrate it with me,” she muttered.

“So you’re saying we can...,” Doyun cautiously asked.

“Don’t make me say it. Just tell me what I need to do,” Eunchae said, looking away.

Chanwoo lay on the floor on his back. They were going to create an Eunchae fucking sandwich, as Doyun described it. She climbed on him and laid on him so they were stomach to stomach. She maneuvered downward until she was low enough that Chanwoo can penetrated her with his dick. She started to hump it, almost out of instinct, but the boys told her to wait. As her third cock waited inside her, Eunchae looked back nervously as Doyun joined them. He held himself up just above, and she felt his erect cock resting against her butt crack.

“For this part, I would recommend you try and relax your asshole as much as possible while I put my dick into you,” Doyun said calmly.

That was a sentence she had not expected to hear tonight when she invited them over to play a board game. She did her best as Doyun directed his tip to her most intimate of entrances. And the only one that had been cock free until now.

It took considerably more pressure to penetrate her ass than her pussy, but it finally popped in, and finally Eunchae experienced the feeling of having two dicks inside her for the first time. Her ass barraged her with feelings of pain and pleasure, and Eunchae started squealing. The two mixed and formed a new sensation that the young girl couldn’t process at first. Doyun took hold of Eunchae’s body and started pumping her on and off of not only his cock implanted in her ass but Chanwoo’s as well.

This was giving her double the pleasure as she was being stretched in both places now. Twice the feeling of a hard cock sliding inside her and twice the sensitive spots being massaged. Her ass was relaxing and feeding her feelings of pure pleasure now. Her friends were rocking her body hard, and she learned what they meant. This feeling couldn’t be described, and she was glad she had agreed to it.

Her muscles all over her body started tensing up as sparks of pleasure burst all over her body. Even in unexplainable areas like her tits and neck. But as she tensed up from this sexual joy, it had the bonus effect of making her squeeze tighter onto the cocks ravaging her insides, sending even more orgasmic pleasure into her body. It was creating a viscous pleasure cycle that sent her skyrocketing up a mountain of ecstasy. When it would peak was unknown to the writhing, naked woman.

Eunchae’s mind thought of nothing but sex, and she started blurting out her thoughts without any sense of shame.

“Don’t stop fucking my holes. Don’t ever stop. I want to do this forever with you. Fill my ass and pussy with cum. Impregnate me and make me your forever whore. Oh god!” The young woman couldn’t tell if she was having two orgasms or one large one.

But in either case, her mouth opened wide, and she looked like she was screaming, but no sound came out as the pleasure flooded into her spine, making her back arch. Her hands flayed wildly as if looking for something that could release her from the intensity she felt from cumming.

Her lovers could do nothing but fill her with their seed, which they did happily. Chanwoo added his sperm to the ever-increasing pool seeking to impregnate Eunchae while Doyun came inside the last orifice of Eunchae’s that had been cum free.

When Eunchae’s vision returned several minutes later, the first thought that popped into her head was that this friendship was forever changed. There’s no way you can let two guy friends double-team you like that and expect things to stay the same. But would they change for the better or worse? Eunchae herself didn’t even know what she wanted the future to hold. But as she sat up, she knew one thing. Eunwoo and Minho were both hard again. Her protection of her sister’s innocence from these horny teenagers was still in question.

“Who’s next, and where do you want to put it?” She asked the men.

The orgy continued for five more hours. Doyun took a shot at impregnating her as well. Multiple times, in fact. All four of them cycled between Eunchae’s different holes, but most enjoyed her pussy. There were, of course, breaks in the actions, but in that time frame, she never went more than twenty minutes without at least one dick in her.

Towards the end of the night, the guys began pushing Eunchae to reveal how many times she had cum, as it had become difficult to tell.

“A proper lady doesn’t reveal such intimate details,” she teased as cum leaked out of her ass and pussy from the last round of double penetration they engaged in.

The night ended when yet another dam of pleasure burst open in Eunchae and proved too overwhelming for her to remain conscious. Her friends were spent at that point and left, leaving Eunchae’s sister untouched that night. When the over-sexed girl woke up in a very sore, cummed covered state, she panicked that her sister might find her like this and quickly cleaned herself and the room up as best she could. But the room had a lingering smell of cum in it. The smell made Eunchae’s legs squirm a bit, but she hoped her sister wouldn’t recognize it if she ever came back here.

Having lost a lot of fluids last night, while gaining a lot as well, Eunchae headed to the kitchen, where she was glad to find her sister had made breakfast. She grabbed a plate and sat at the table with her.

“You guys played that game of yours late last night. Your friends must have really enjoyed themselves,” Eunchae's sister said without a hint indicating she actually knew what happened.

“Yeah... it was fun,” Eunchae said, not able to look her sister in the eyes. They both sat in silence for a few minutes with an awkwardness in the air that had never been present before.

“Eunchae, I have something to tell you. And I need you to let me finish before you respond,” her sister asked, looking nervous.

“Okay...,” Eunchae replied, putting down her fork. She anxiously expected her sister to reveal she knew about her orgy last night and expected a lecture on safe sex. A lecture that was a day late, likely, Eunchae thought, putting her hand on her tummy.

“I appreciate that what I’m about to tell you will make you upset and may even make you feel betrayed. I know I messed up, but I hope you at least understand why I did this.” Eunchae suddenly had no clue where this was headed, but kept quiet as her sister had requested.

“Starting five months ago, right after the last of them turned eighteen, I have been engaging in sexual activities with your four friends. Wait. I should be clear about this, as you are an adult and need to hear the truth. I have been having sex with them. Orally, vaginally, and anally. Often at the same time. Your friends have a touch that drives me wild. Often, I pass out in an orgasmic spasm, only to wake up the next day hungry for more. We meet together whenever we can, which is 4 to 5 times a week. I should also mention that I got addicted to the feeling of their bare skin inside me, and thus, we haven’t been using protection. I’m... three months pregnant. I’m not sure which of them is the father, nor do I need to know. I’m so sorry about this. I tried to tell you yesterday, but you seemed so off-put by the idea of me being attracted to your friends. But I knew I had to tell you today, no matter what. How mad are you with me?”

Eunchae sat looking at her sister calmly for a minute before responding.

“Could we pretend you didn’t tell me this yet? My friends are coming over tonight, and there’s a new game we invented last night that I want to keep playing with them. Maybe we tell them in three or four months?”

Her sister smiled at her with understanding eyes.

“You should probably put some lube on your asshole. Trust me, it will help.”

#eunchae smut #le sserafim smut #girl group smut #female idol smut #male reader

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i-get-obsessed-fast · 3 months ago

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Classroom Talk | Spencer Reid

Summary: Spencer drops your lunch off to your classroom filled with apparent love experts, who then question the man you’re with and tease you two for not being married yet…

A/N: idk why but I just thought of this, it’s adorable though. Not proofread too tired for that. LOL.

BYR(b4 you Reid): light teasing, Spencer getting kind of bullied by teens, and fluff :))

You were at your desk, deep in teacher mode. Grading assignments, updating the grade book, the usual rhythm of a productive day.

You glanced up and saw your students working quietly for once, either reading the latest chapter you’d assigned or scribbling their thoughts in journals. It was that rare magical moment every teacher silently prays for: peace.

Naturally, it didn’t last.

There was a knock at the door.

Every single head turned in unison. Including yours.

“Hello.” A familiar voice said, soft and polite, peeking into the room like he wasn’t about to cause utter chaos.

Spencer.

Your brilliant, shy, awkward boyfriend. Standing in your classroom.

You blinked, stunned. “What are you doing here?” You asked, smiling like this was the best little surprise.

“Someone.” He said, raising a brow and holding your bag up. “Forgot their lunch at home.”

You walked over to meet him halfway, shaking your head. “Wow, I didn’t even realize.”

His hand instinctively went to your waist as he handed you your lunch, you turned to face your students, you immediately regretted it.

Half of them were staring blankly. The other half wore smug little smirks, the kind you’ve seen way too many times this year.

You sighed, already sensing the storm brewing. “Everyone, this is Spencer.” You introduced him. He gave an awkward wave and shy smile, very much regretting every life choice that led him to this moment.

“Hi.” Came a chorus of teenage politeness, which was immediately shattered by

“Is that your husband?” Silas blurted. Of course it was Silas.

You chuckled. “No, not my husband.”

“Fiancé?” Someone else chimed in.

“Boyfriend.” Spencer said, trying to sound casual.

“Oooh!” “Awws” “no way” erupted from every direction.

Mia raised an eyebrow. “You have a boyfriend? Why didn’t you tell us? We thought you were lonely!”

You blinked. “I-well- I didn’t think you needed to know about my personal life.”

“Why? We always tell you about ours.”

You stared at them. “That’s…true, unfortunately.”

“I always thought you and the basketball coach would be cute.” Someone tossed out.

Spencer’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”

You stepped in. “Okay! That’s enough. You’re scaring him”

The class laughed, clearly delighted.

You turned back to Spencer, lowering your voice. “Thanks for this. Lunch is in fifteen, have time?”

He smiled. “For you? Always.”

You motioned to the chair near your desk, and he sat, awkward but trying. You returned to your seat, praying your students would go back to their journals.

Nope.

Olivia’s hand shot up.

“Yes? Olivia?”

“Why is your boyfriend dressed like he’s coming from a funeral?”

You choked back a laugh, Spencer blinked at you, betrayed.

“Well.” You said sweetly. “Spencer?”

He cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably. “Uh…my job?”

“What do you do?”

“I’m with the FBI.” He said, a little more confidently. “Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

“Boring.” Someone muttered.

Your head snapped up. “Hey! Be nice. His job is actually super important.” You say going to your sweet lovely boyfriend’s defense because only you can pick on him.

“Yeah, shut up. Let him talk.” Silas said.

You raised a brow. “Appreciate the support, not the tone.”

Spencer smiled faintly. “What we do is analyze criminal behavior to help catch criminals. It’s called profiling.”

“It’s like psychology.” You added. “It’s really cool.”

“So you predict what people do? Do me!” Ethan asked.

“Uh…it doesn’t quite work like that.” Spencer replied.

Ethan sighed, immediately unimpressed.

“So you get to catch criminals?” Mia asked.

“Yeah. We do.” Spencer said, nodding.

“Cool.” Silas grinned. “Do you see crime scenes? Are they gross?”

“Very.” Spencer said.

And now they were really invested.

“What’s the worst you’ve ever seen?” Someone asked

Spencer opened his mouth.

“Nope!” You interrupted. “Do not answer that.” The class groaned. “Sorry, guys.”

“How long have you guys been together?” Mia asked.

You hesitated. “Four years. Now get back to work.”

“Four years and no ring? That’s sad.” Silas said. Your jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”

“Are you guys scared of marriage or something?” Olivia teased. You and Spencer both looked equally offended.

“No.” You said crossing your arms. “We’re just…comfortable.” Spencer nodded. “We’re happy where we are. Right?” He asked, his head snapping to you for confirmation.

You smiled. “Right.”

“Well, if my boyfriend didn’t propose after four years, I’d dump him.” Mia declared. You shook your head. “When did this classroom turn into a relationship panel?”

“Yeah.” Spencer added. “How old are you guys? Fourteen? Fifteen?”

The room broke into laughter.

Finally, the bell rang. “Thank god.” You muttered, watching them pack up.

A few waved at Spencer, others giggled as they walked past. And then Olivia stopped right next to him.

“She’s a lovely woman. You should really put a ring on her finger.”

Then she was gone.

Spencer turned to you, you were already laughing.

“She’s not wrong.” You said making your way to him, grabbing his hand. “I am pretty lovely.”

“I am never stepping foot in this classroom again.” He said. “That was more stressful than interrogating a serial killer.”

“Oh, come on. I think they liked you.”

“Really? Because that comment about the basketball couch felt very personal.”

You laughed and nudged him. “You’re focused on the wrong thing.”

“What should I be focusing on?”

“Marrying me.”

He paused, then smiled. “Noted.”

You walked toward your classroom door, twisting the lock. Spencer was still by your desk, looking mildly traumatized.

“Are you okay?” You asked, trying not to laugh.

“I’ve been shot at less aggressively than I was questioned in here.” He replied, deadpan. “And I sensed one of your students wanting to fight me. I saw the glint in their eyes.”

You laughed. “Well, you held your own. I’m proud of you.”

You moved a chair next to Spencer, and took a seat, unwrapping your sandwich. He watched you for a second, then leaned in with a smile.

“So…four years no ring?” He said, repeating Silas’ line like he was testing it out loud.

You narrowed your eyes. “Don’t you start.”

“Hey, I’m just saying. The experts have spoken. We’re on thin ice.”

“You’re right, should I just elope with the basketball coach?”

Spencer gave a dramatic gasp. “I knew it.”

You nodded. “He is tall, and charming.”

“Wow. Okay, now I am scared.”

You smiled, nudging your foot against his. “You know I don’t need a ring to feel secure with you, right?”

“I know.” He said softly, reaching out to brush your hand. “But also…I don’t not want to marry you someday.”

Your heart did a flip. You tried to play it cool, like your knees didn’t suddenly feel like jello.

“Yeah?” You asked, voice softer.

He nodded. “Yeah. Just…not because Olivia told me to. Although she is very convincing.”

“She is. Probably runs the underground student government.”

“Definitely. But I’ve thought about it before. And I want to do it the right way. You’d deserve something…meaningful. Not pressured by a bunch of freshman armed with sass and curiosity.”

You grinned. “I do love something meaningful.”

He leaned in slightly, teasing. “So…no courthouse wedding tomorrow after work?”

You thought about it. “Only if we go matching in some ridiculous couples costume.”

“That actually sounds incredible.”

You both laughed, the weight of the moment balanced by the natural ease between you. You leaned your head on his shoulder and exhaled.

“I liked seeing you here.” You murmured. “Even if they grilled you like a suspect.”

He chuckled. “Next time, I’m bringing backup. Maybe Morgan.”

“Oh please, if Morgan walked in here, half the girls would faint.”

He smiled, agreeing with you.

You then grabbed his hand. “Thank you for bringing my lunch.”

“Anytime. Next time I’ll bring a ring, just to keep them happy.”

You lifted your head. “If you propose in my classroom, I will throw a dry erase marker at you.”

“Romantic.” He whispered, his smile never leaving his face, you looked at him, and he kissed your forehead.

“I love you.”

“I love you most.”

SO ADORABLE WTH

- Tag List ~

@alastorssimp @sleepysongbirdsings @khxna

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pomegranate-eater · 3 months ago

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➤𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒔𝒐 𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒚 — what yandere them do (to you) after catching you in the act of masturbating. [part two with other characters]

jing yuan, sunday, dr. ratio, phainon, luocha.

contents: afab reader, yandere, dub-con/non-con, forced relationship, masturbation, forced masturbation, grinding, Penacony Sunday, fingering, mentions of addiction to pornography, humping, dildo usage. not suitable for minors.

JING YUAN

Coming home, Jing Yuan was ready to deal with another load of small troubles thrown at him by you — the discomfort around him you try to hide when he spends time with you, likely another portion of you asking him to let you go, or you expressing your anger at him he’d usually just wait through before he can talk to you like you two are civilized people.

To his surprise, what he came home to was nothing from the list of your typical behavior he could typically easily predict. Because as he approached the bedroom where you were hidden inside, what he heard was strangled, high-pitched sounds, that desperately tried to stay muffled but couldn’t. To Jing Yuan, the bigger shock aspect was from the usage of his name blended inside the profanities.

He had to close his eyes and press his forehead against the door, his mind swirling with confusion and being much more strained. You pleasuring yourself within the same house was one thing, you doing that with him on your mind was the most shocking here. He attempted to rationalize it with you being so pent up from everything going on in your life, and the attachment that had developed between you two involuntarily to you, as only this would make a sense to a smart man like him eventually; which didn’t mean he wasn’t now affected by the confrontation physically as well.

He wanted to be there, making your current fantasies come true.

Yet, for now, he decided to give you space. He couldn’t interfere and make you feel as if you have no privacy, and risk your hatred growing even more. Retiring to his own business, he decided he would tackle down the issue once you’ve blown off some steam.

You left your room some time later, washed, hoping that you were secretive enough with your behavior, especially after having washed and changed your clothes.

The hot water from the shower made you thirsty, so you found yourself in the kitchen. When you placed the empty glass down on the counter, right before you’d turn around to leave, you felt Jing Yuan grab and hold you from behind. Your body tense, you immediately protested, “What the hell are you doing, Jing Yuan? Let me go!”

“Shh…” he whispered, and kissed your nape gently. “You’re so pent up lately, aren’t you?” The words inspired panic in you, making you wonder if he knows as his words suspiciously covered with what you’ve just done.

“Of course I’m pent up, if you put me in situation-”

“You know that’s not what I mean.” That was enough for you to know he knows.

“You— you were eavesdropping on me?” you said, mortified by the fact. You tried to move away again but he didn’t let you, keeping you pinned between him and the counter.

“I promise it was by an accident. You must have not heard me enter the house, but there’s nothing to be embarrassed about in any case…” he made his voice to be even lower, if that’s even possible with its natural vocal range, meant to seduce and entice you. And then, when he ground against you from behind, the leftover sparks of arousal after your self-pleasure were ignited.

“S-stop,” you whimpered out, biting on your tongue to not let any more shameful sounds. Despite Jing Yuan keeping you here, he’s never really crossed any bigger line when it came to touching you, so him taking advantage of your bodily situation was new to you — he was using your constitution against you to have you cornered like this.

“Stop?” he repeated with a confusion sounding so real you couldn’t tell if he was that good at acting, and kissed your neck again. “Halt what? Me only trying to help you?”

He painted himself as a good lover, and while you knew better, the body wanted what it wanted and couldn’t handle any more tension to be stored.

So when he ground against you once more enough to force out a first moan, it was hard to push him away again. Jing Yuan didn't pause his grinds against your pussy from behind, making you stain freshly washed underwear you have just put on as you were wet from the stimulation, again. "That's it... doesn't this feel good? Isn't this much better when you're not fighting me, hm?" he teased gently, followed by his grunt when you pushed yourself back at him, and for a moment, you thought of yourself as just his lover with nothing to fear.

When he deemed you as someone who succumbed to this stimulation enough, your desperation having been weaponized against you successfully to this strategic man, he asked, "Should we take this to the bedroom?"

SUNDAY

The passage of time in the dreamscape sometimes played with you and your body, leaving it unclear to yoy about how long until that dreadful point of Sunday’s reunion with you arrives.

Not to mention, you felt as if your body was on another level of sensitivity here — you didn’t take the changes well, and even soulglad hasn’t helped… for some reason. Sunday’s tuning that was offered to you daily didn’t work either, and any questions about the failure would lead to him stating you’re the more difficult case he needs more time in order to heal — that much he has promised you with chivalry.

The sensitivity made its manifestation in different forms, but the most humiliating and self-depreciating was the arousing effect of your trouble. Your body was as taut as a bowstring, ready to snap if you don’t ease yourself.

Your legs spread under the silk bedsheets, the only form of coverage in case Sunday walks in any moment, the fingers worked aggressively on making you build up pleasure. And while it felt good, the buildup wasn’t coming proportionately fast enough to how high your desire was, only creating a frustrating ache as a result — you were crying from the torture at this point.

Then, everything was ruined when Sunday has finally returned. You had to quickly situate your hands on your sides to not form any suspicious outlines under the duvet, yet none of your efforts mattered if your entire state has exposed your mischief.

Sunday stood in the doorway, the expression flustered matching yours, as he tried to form the most respectful response he could for your predicament. “Ah… my apologies, it seems I caught you in a rather unfortunate for you moment…”

To your series of misfortunes, he didn’t leave to give you some privacy and time to gather yourself. He even dared to step inside and walk towards you.

The dear caught in headlights, you could only squeak out in distress, “Sunday, please, give me a moment!” But he instead sat down on the edge of your bed and captured the hand under the sheets, the one that was the culprit of your arousal, and revealed it to the air. It was still wet, glistening from the slick of your pussy — and you being forced to witness it was way too degrading, as if there was something wrong with you doing this to yourself; even if it was normal. “There’s no need to be ashamed,” he said softly, despite the shyness at the confrontation with these sort of things he wasn’t used to as a chaste man himself… that is, outside of his thoughts about you. “It’s only… a human nature, the physiology of a human body to have those needs… needs that need a relief. Do you wish for me to help you with that?” he offered, as if it nothing but a benevolent gesture.

“No!” you were ready to yank your hand away from his gloved one, but his grip on your wrist was stronger. “Sunday, just let me be!”

He either didn’t hear you, or ignored you on purpose to further push his narrative onto you; instead, he unpeeled the duvet off of your body. Mortified, you froze at the sudden exposure. You weren’t naked, as all you did when masturbating was dive your hand into your pants, but it’s the fact that you were guessing what he was about to do that made you scared here.

Suddenly, your body wasn’t cooperating either — it didn’t move as Sunday removed his own gloves and then pulled down your pants along with your underwear. Instead, it swum in now bigger waves of arousal, the negative and protesting emotions buried under the desperate need. What was real in terms of you actually wanting this or if it was the ploy created by his harmony abilities was now unable to be pinpointed; yet the only thing that mattered was how releasing it was to feel his fingers dip inside — two already went in with an ease.

“S-Sunday…” you moaned out, your hips jerking along his skilled thrust, knowing what spots to attack.

“See? I am only helping my dove. You should relax, and let me take care of everything.” He leaned in to press the kiss on your forehead, and looking down at your face, he smiled softly — the curve of his lips not matching the fervor in the golden eyes.

DR. RATIO

“It is rather uncultured to reach for pornography as a tool of relief, love,” the stern voice scolded you from behind, and you almost fell off of the Veritas’s desk chair. You were a small bulgar when have broken into his office, just to access the computer here and watch porn videos. Having been stuck with this man for months, it was constantly driving you insane, you were caught in a need for release of your frustrations somewhere… and before you’d ended up with him, you already were a victim of porno addiction as a way of dealing with your everyday problems. Your own thoughts weren’t satisfactory enough to make you cum undone.

Watching porn could have been faked to look as if happening for a different reason, maybe by pretending you were trying to pull a prank on him in a form of leaving an unsavory history in his web browser; but touching yourself to what was playing on the screen — you couldn’t lie to Veritas.

“I…” your voice trembled, wanting to cry from the shame.

“Save it,” he sighed and dragged you away from the room. You found yourself seated on the bed of the bedroom you had a displeasure sharing with him, and he was on the opposite of you — standing with his arms crossed. You sensed a big talk coming.

“I don’t think I should have to tell you how excessive pornography affects both brain and sexual relationships, and yet here I am. Do you seriously have no clue how to pleasure your own body without using deplorable methods?”

He had no right to tell you what to do, he had no right to shame you when he has forced you in this situation, and yet, you found yourself feeling disgusting and guilty.

“I know… it’s stronger than me,” the words barely left your throat, making you wonder why the hell are you even explaining yourself to him.

“Of course a fool like you would retract from responsibility with such a convenient excuse,” his tone was disappointed. “No matter. The part of my mission is teaching fools, and teaching you should be not any more difficult.”

Hearing ‘teaching’, the connotation of the word made you think of receiving punishment… a possibility so scary you looked at him with pleading.

“I don’t mean a discipline, thought you clearly lack some self-control. I meant teaching you how to pleasure yourself, without having to reach for awful videos that have nothing to do with a real pleasure or intimacy.” That, was perhaps, even scarier.

Before you’d react, Veritas was already lifting up your shirt. “Wait-”

“No stopping. We need to take advantage of your body still being in a state of arousal.”

He didn’t touch you, however — instead, he started to instruct you. “Touch your chest.”

“What?” you said, stunned.

“Don’t make me repeat yourself, unless you want me to tie you down and do it for you.” The threat was enough to make your fingers wander around the area, and tease the nipple. Yet, it wasn’t enough; not when you weren’t given an exposure to two other people fucking…. Something he noticed, or rather anticipated considering your well-known to him addiction.

“If your imagination is failing you, think of me doing this to you,” he proposed with a smirk, and you squirmed at the idea. Despite your dislike towards Veritas, him being the only person around, one so attractive, made you separate his person from his body.

With your eyes closed, you couldn’t see the satisfaction painted all over his face. He stepped closer to you, and leaned down to whisper to your ear. “Now… put your hand between your thighs.”

Each step you took next, he was now the one verbally envisioning the ideas of what you two could be doing together, as you couldn’t think anymore.

PHAINON

Stupid, handsome, gentle Phainon — you wanted to blame him for the way you were currently humping his pillow between your thighs, too invested in grinding your clit against the fluffy mass to even consider staying in tact with your surroundings. You couldn’t curb your hunger for the orgasms you forced yourself to be deprived of anytime Phainon offered you some.

Yes, he’s been trying to initiate sex with you many, many times, each time being so soft and gentle you were starting to believe you were the bad person here; more cruel than when rejecting someone so perfect — but even if you’ve been managing to stop him the last moment (and he was respectful enough to stop), the buildup from small touches and kisses remained and has kept growing into gigantic pressure, that now was threatening to break you. You were relieving that pressure, but the worry it will never be enough compared to having him fuck you clouded your satisfaction.

“Phainon… please…”

Right when you were about to hit the clit orgasm, strong yet nowhere near enough to have cut it okay, the door to the room opened with a swing, the chirpy voice announcing its presence and then cracking into a fluster. “I’m sorry for returning so late, I had to— oh, that’s unexpected…”

Your head snapped to look at Phainon and you quickly abandoned the pillow, sitting up on your knees, and you threw it at him. “What happened to knocking on the door, Phainon!” you yelled, both petrified and embarrassed.

The fact the pillow was stained hit you only after you threw it. “Wait, give it back—” you begged with panic, as you saw it hit his face. But Phainon held onto it, his eyes darting between you and the item. The smell of your arousal was gamy on the pillow, and provoked his nose as a testimony of what you were doing when he wasn’t here.

“This is what I was referring to, my love,” was the first thing he said, with an odd elation in his voice. When you noticed the mutual excitement on his face, you knew you were screwed.

“Phainon, don’t—” you pleaded as you saw him approach you. He continued, “You reject me, just because of some pride and stubbornness, yet your body is begging me and reveling the truth.”

“But do not fret,” he reassured, and lifted you up into his arms, to which you yelped, “Now I know it’s not a matter of waiting for your approval, only giving you a slight push.” You were then placed on his hips, straddling his form lying on your bed.

“P-Phainon, seriously—” you let out, shaken up, but she shushed you. “It’s okay. I’ve got you, really.”

He grabbed your hands to hold in the air as some resemblance of intimacy, even if for you the handlebars you desperately need to hold onto, and started to rock onto you from below — his pants onto your bare pussy. The friction was worse than that of a pillow; the relevance was not due to the difference in material — it was about how deliberate his movements were, perfected, and the fact that it was his physical form giving you the relief.

No more yearning needed.

The pleasure hit you immediately and that ruined orgasm was back in a matter of just few seconds, as you screamed silently — that’s how pent up you were for weeks. When you collapsed on front of him, despite the shock in his eyes, Phainon wrapped his arms around you and spoke softly, “Seems I was correct. Yet I doubt it’s enough, so…” after few rubs on your back, he was humping you again, this time chest to chest; letting out moans himself.

“I don’t think this is the only thing you want, it’s impossible, but we’ll take it step by step each day, until we get to the final act…” he promised, followed by the kiss so mad to finally relieve his own old tensions.

LUOCHA

“Mens sana in corpore sano” is what Luocha would notoriously refer to whenever, out of your distress, refused to eat something given to you or weren’t eager to go on longer walks when mad at him, no matter if he mercifully offered it to you, as he knew staying inside all day wouldn’t do you any good — you were forced to travel and move constantly to keep up with his ‘merchant’ life, but walk among nature would always have a different effect on your unrest.

The words were simple, “a healthy mind in a healthy body”, signaling you can never be mentally stable (in your situation especially) if you don’t take care of your own body first.

That was easy to be understood by you literaly, it’s just that applying the rule to the reality wasn’t any easy. What sane soul would be able to function in black and white terms based on the rule, when the stress of situation was the last thing to make them stick to the self-discipline?

The biggest mock was thrown at you when one day, Luocha has gifted you a toy. A sex toy, to be specific, in a shape of a male penis. Not too long, not too girthy; but it wasn’t the size that mattered — only the weird gesture behind the gift. He didn’t tease you about your embarrassment that day, only instructed you about how sexual pleasure might be cathartic to you and help you stay calm — in his medic manner.

You, naturally, have rejected the gift. Which didn’t mean your mind wouldn’t wander to it sometimes, in moments of biggest anxiety… when he wasn’t there to avoid the risk of him intelligently catching your mind wandering somewhere. Upon many months of stress provoked by his presence, you eventually relented and gave into indulgence.

The dildo was now being furiously pumped into your pussy by your own hand, as you chased third orgasm of the day. Involuntarily to you, your mind kept entertaining thoughts of Luocha, that beautiful man with his lush locks and kind green eyes. Sometimes, when his hand touched your back, you could cry from how soft and gentle it was; contradictory of what he could truly do to another person.

Too distracted by the heat in your belly, you let the risqué thoughts take their place, and fantasized it’s his cock fucking you like this.

“L-Luocha… please, I need more!” you moaned, lost in the perversion of your own mind.

“Yes?” he replied, and it took you very long seconds to realize the answer wasn’t imaginary but real, actually registered by your ears. Your hand stopped and abandoned the dildo that remained hilariously inside, your pussy clenching with pressure on the toy to not let it slip out.

“You bastard!” you yelled, mad at him for not knocking on the door. “You should have knocked!”

“I did. You must have not heard it,” he exclaimed, frustratingly phlegmatic in his form standing casually. You couldn’t verify the validity of his claim as you truly have been too busy with pleasure to have heard anything.

Your voice was stuck in your throat when he approached you and sat down on your bed, his walk not giving you enough time to form any logical argument to why he still should be turning around to leave your room. Before you could kick yourself away from him, the gloved hand grabbed onto the dildo and shoved it deeper inside. Your grasped onto the sheets under you, and you jerked your body back with a gasp, totally not expecting this move.

“This way, you should reach a better angle, if you want to maximize the pleasure, my dear.”

Seeing the stun look on your face, stuck in limbo of questioning whether you should stop him or let him do as he pleases, he encouraged, “Are you not going to continue? I guess I have to lend a helping hand to my patient…”

Your legs trembled as he resumed your actions, now reflecting them as he did it for you; except with a skill much more worthy of praise, not one of a person too wretched in animal desperation to not be so messy. The dildo was thrusted into your sensitive walls slowly, squelched around your excessive wetness; but the tip was angled to hit that golden spot. “Luocha, stop…” you barely managed to beg, but both of you knew it’s futile.

“Now, now, don’t be so shy. We’ve discussed this before, haven’t we? A healthy body, a healthy mind. And if you do well, I promise to further relieve you with something much more… substantial,” he said with a small smile, but the jubilance in his eyes at your loss of inhibitions spoke of not a single innocent intention he will manifest when inside of you.

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yandere-daydreams · 4 months ago

Text

Title: Short Leash.

A continuation of Good Dog.

Pairing: Yandere!SatoSugu x Reader (JJK).

Word Count: 7.5k.

TW: Fem!Reader, Non/Con, Pet Play, Wildly Unbalanced Power Dynamics, Physical Abuse, Emotional Abuse, Semi-Public Humiliation, Blood, Controlling Behavior, and Dehumanization. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

You woke up the next morning groggier than you’d ever been before, praying that you’d open your eyes and miraculously find yourself in your own apartment, piled into your own bed, with a hangover painful enough to block out the strange, hyper-realistic dream you’d endured the night before. Predictably, you didn’t.

Less predictably, you found yourself in Satoru’s villa, piled onto Suguru’s bed, and entirely alone.

They must’ve untied you at some point, most likely shorty after you’d passed out with Suguru’s cock lodged deeply enough down your throat to cut off your airflow. The black cord hung limp from its post, and the sharp pain in your wrists had dulled into a red, angry throbbing. The rest of your body wasn’t so quick to recover. Your legs felt like tree roots, too heavy to lift and connected to you only by calcified tendons too stubborn to break. Your back and sides were bruised where Satoru had pawed and bitten, and you could feel the indents of Suguru’s fingertips around your throat, the weight of his palm against the back of your head. Your muzzle hung limp around your neck, which you were thankful for. You were sure it wasn’t as uncomfortable as Satoru’s, but already, you knew you wouldn’t be able to wear it for more than a couple minutes at a time. Whether or not you’d be forced to was something you didn’t want to think about, right now.

With no small amount of effort, you picked yourself up and swung your legs over the side of the mattress. You’d only just started to test the sole of your foot against the carpeting when something clambered against the bedroom door, knocking against the wood clumsily before shouldering it open and stepping inside.

It was Satoru. That wasn’t surprising on its own, but the fact that he was wearing clothes – real, non-puppy themed clothes – was. Just a pair of grey sweatpants and an oversized white shirt, sure, but clothes.

That, and the absence of his muzzle. Come to think of it, this was probably the first time you’d seen anything below his eyes.

Even if you’d thought to, you never would’ve pictured him wearing the expression he currently was. A big, lopsided grin stretched across his lips, a toothbrush hanging haphazardly from one side. In the light of day, it was hard to tell he was the same person who’d done the unspeakable to you last night – his eyes not quite as prying, his posture less rigid, his demeanor more akin to a kid at a sleepover who’d been waiting the better part of a morning for their guest to wake up. You might’ve been able to convince yourself last night was some sort of mix-up, that he and Suguru would apologize and offer some neatly wrapped, bow-topped excuse to explain it all away, if he hadn’t chosen that moment to open his mouth.

“Mornin’, sleeping beauty,” he started, wiping foam off of his lips with the back of his hand. “Good thing Suguru’s already gone. He kept me locked up for days, the first time I took off my muzzle without permission.”

You blinked at him, a blank slate. Then, because the visual seemed to loop in your mind like some gruesome, prophetic vision, you asked, “…he’s going to lock me in a cage?”

Satoru’s smile turned sympathetic. The toothbrush was abandoned on the corner of a dresser as he closed the distance between you, hooking an arm around yours. “C’mon – we should get you cleaned up. See if we can wash off the shock.” He pulled you onto your feet, bracing you against his side. “Think you can walk on your own?”

You tried to take a step and crumpled immediately, collapsing into a heap of limbs and stupor and embarrassment. Satoru didn’t wait for you to push yourself up, looping an arm under your knees, another around back, and pulling you into his chest. The muzzle suddenly seemed like a mercy. Without it, his delight at your helplessness shone through clearly.

You could remember passing at least half a dozen bathrooms last night, but Satoru didn’t seem to be in a rush to put you down. With his fingertips burrowed into your skin and an ever-tightening grip, he wandered through the villa, taking you back to the first floor and into another wing entirely. Eventually, he seemed to find what he was looking for – a large, traditional bathing room almost entirely taken up by an in-ground stone basin. You were placed on a wooden stool while Satoru fussed with the facets, scalding-hot water slowly beginning to trickle into the tub.

As reluctant as you were to give Satoru credit, the heat and steam were sobering. Your eyes flickered from wall to wall, looking for weapons, escape routes, signs that you were supposed to be doing more than sitting here and letting this happen. You didn’t find any unattended razors, but there was a screen door near the basin – no lock visibly from where you currently sat. Dappled sunlight beat against the thin, yellowed paper, but knowing there was a way outside only raised more questions. Namely: If leaving was so easy, why was Satoru still here?

You turned to him. He was sitting on the tiled ledge, fingertips skimming the surface of the steadily rising water. More concerningly, he was already looking at you, blue eyes wide and aware. You wondered if you’d ever adjust to that – his eyes, the way he stared, how jarringly bright they seemed. It seemed impossible to imagine yourself getting used to having two twin floodlights constantly pointed in your direction.

“Afraid of a little water?” It took you a second to put together what he meant, that your lasting terror must’ve been apparently. You didn’t respond, but still, Satoru laughed. “That’s alright. That’s perfect. Just goes to show that you were always meant to be our little kitten.”

Sure. Whatever. The pet-talk was already turning into white noise – washing over you more ambivalently than it should’ve. You soldiered on, newly eager for a change of subject. “You keep trying to make it sound like you know me.”

Satoru hummed. “We do, baby. Wouldn’t have brought you home without doing our research.”

“How long?”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific.”

You crossed your arms, suddenly aware of your own state of undress. “How long were you watching me?”

You weren’t sure you which you would’ve preferred – a quick answer, concise and telling in its reflexivity, or something more delayed, leaving room to doubt just how well they’d thought this through. He seemed to think, but not for very long, robbing you of the satisfaction of either. “Do you remember a few months ago, when your building got condemned?”

You nodded. You’d been told it was a maintenance issue; black mold, or faulty wiring, or something along those lines. It’d been sudden, but there were signs. You could still remember how tired you’d felt to the months leading up to your hasty eviction, the dark shroud of misery that’d seemed to spread itself over you and the other residents and, ironically, only start to lift the day you’d all been told to pack up and get out. That was over a year ago, now. Closer to two, really.

“Suguru stopped by with a few acolytes the night before, since places like that tend to be a breeding ground for cursed spirits. After a little fighting, he ended up in your apartment, and—” Satoru paused, grinning as he shook his head. “It was something about the way you looked, all pathetic and curled up. He says he thought about killing you for a while, but never got around to it. He told me about you a few weeks later.”

It might’ve been a kindness that you only understood half of what he said, your mind catching on words like acolyte and cursed spirit without the ability to assign a meaning to the phrase. But, even through your confusion, you could get to the bottom line. They’d been stalking you for years. Mostly Suguru, but Satoru had been in on it, too. And, to make it that much more nightmarish, you’d never noticed either one of them – not until they decided you were allowed to, at least. It was enough to leave you cold and unsteady, fighting not to shake where you sat. It was enough to leave you wondering why you’d ever thought a hot, normal guy would be interested in you, in the first place.

The water reached the basin’s rim, and without glancing down to check, Satoru cut it off. It took you a second to find your voice. The humidity in the air abruptly seemed overbearing, choking. “When do I get to go home?”

It was a deliberately pointed question – meant to counter his delusional affection with cold, jutting reality. Satoru only sighed, nodding to the screen door. “No one’s in your way.”

His tone was resigned, a little bored, but the sentiment gave you more hope than it should’ve. If there was hope— any hope at all – that Satoru was brought into this the same way you were, that he was on your side, then that increased your chances of getting out of here ten-fold. Suguru seemed to put a lot of trust in his lapdog, but there might’ve been a chance that you wouldn’t be bitten for stepping out of line.

Slowly, you staggered to your feet and struggled to the door, relying on anything within arm’s reach for support. It looked like someone had taken a knife to the barred handle, but you couldn’t make out what they might’ve been trying to carve – only a series of nonsensical kanji and outlandish symbols. You spared a glance back to Satoru, who nodded encouragingly. Like that helped.

Bracing yourself, you wrapped a fist around the handle a tried to pull.

…

You woke up minutes later, colder than you’d ever been before and cradled in Satoru’s arms. His lips were pressed into your temple, his nose buried in your hair. You could feel his breath fanning over your scalp. Absentmindedly, you realized he was smelling you.

They didn’t live in the villa. Suguru let that slip quickly, somewhere around the fourth time he found you hiding in one of the many unfurnished rooms. It’d been an anniversary present – although, from who and the anniversary of what, he never specified. They used it as a retreat, or in your case, a training facility. You’d be allowed to see their actual home once you’d proven you could be a good kitty.

You hated thinking about yourself in their terms – a captive, a kitten, a pet – but it would’ve been impossible not to. Satoru was capable of a sort of pseudo-normalcy when Suguru was out, wearing clothes and talking to you like something resembling a human being, but when Suguru was home, he conformed to his allotted role happily. The puppy gear was more of a uniform than your realized – the specific parts exchangeable, but each component necessary. He donned them pridefully, happily. You were expected to do the same.

You didn’t often meet Suguru’s expectations.

Satoru whined as you were pulled off of the living room floor (because animals weren’t allowed on the furniture without permission) and into Suguru’s lap. Your latest offense had been your most frequently repeated. The leather muzzle bit into the bridge of your nose and cut into the underside of your jaw, and your faux ears always seemed to be pricking at some part of your scalp, and yet, the collar always seemed to be what you gravitated towards, what you picked at, what your body wanted removed before anything else. Suguru clicked his tongue as he traced the jagged, red lines you’d raked into your throat, only dulled slightly by the fact that you’d been scratching through fabric. Trying to get it off would’ve been futile, with or without your hands trapped in paw-shaped mittens, but you couldn’t help it. There was something deep and primal inside of you that wanted it gone, and despite your better judgement, your conscious mind agreed.

“I’ve got half a mind to have you declawed.” The threat was dulled by an airy laugh, but his underlying agitation was clear. In his own, twisted way, you guessed that Suguru considered himself a good owner. Hence why evidence as to the contrary was usually so poorly received. “Care to explain yourself, princess?”

You swallowed back your nerves. “I honestly didn’t realize what I was doing, I’m just not used to—”

“Ah,” he cut in, hand falling to your thigh and squeezing. “That’s not right, either. Can you tell me the first thing pets aren’t supposed to do?”

You opened your mouth, but closed it just as quickly. Right. You were having time remembering that one.

Pets weren’t supposed to speak. Not without permission.

You hung your head silently, and Suguru took that as answer enough. “Good girl.” And then, his eyes falling back to your throat, “What do you think we should do with the poor thing, ‘toru?”

Satoru let out a keening bark, still on his knees at the foot of the couch. Suguru softened immediately. “Speak.”

“She’s been thinking too much, again. You should show her how to stop.”

Even behind the muzzle, you could hear his grin. Suguru mirrored the expression. “And how do you think I should make that happen?”

Another bark, shriller than the first, followed by the heady sounds of feigned panting. You sent Satoru a venomous look, and Suguru hummed. “You’re right.” He paused, lowering his voice, creating a pantomime of privacy between the two of you. “He thinks that, since you’re so intent on making yourself uncomfortable, we should do the same.”

Cold, sharp dread cut through your chest, accompanying a flood of memories of Satoru’s body on top of yours, the animal force of his hips against your ass as he did his best to make up for a natural canine breeding drive. They’d been surprisingly conservative with sex after that first night, limiting your exposure to a few minutes of unwanted touching during baths and having to hear the two of them go at it from halfway across the villa. You assumed it was a nicety, a means of letting you adjust. Suddenly, you were confronted with the idea that they’d only been waiting for a reason to blame you for your own violation.

It was almost a relief when Satoru didn’t pounce, when Suguru didn’t move to kiss you. Instead, he took you by the shoulder and forced you down, until your body was splayed awkwardly across his lap, your stomach pressed into his thighs. One hand rested on the small of your back whine the other fell to your ass, kneading shamelessly. Your face burnt with embarrassment and righteous anger. You couldn’t imagine how Satoru handled it – being treated less like a person, prideful and independent and deserving of respect, and more like an animal, happy to be touched in any ways its owner was willing to. Maybe it wouldn’t have been so terrible if, like Satoru, you’d never had any pride to begin with.

“We’ll start with twenty-five, since it’s your first real punishment. Count yourself lucky – Satoru’s first warning was a broken finger.” His tone was fond, distant, as if he was recalling a cherished memory. “I’ll need you to count for me. If you can’t, we’ll have to start over.”

You tempted to protest, to stiffen, to refuse to participate in your own degradation, but this was, admittedly, the preferred alternative to what you’d imagined. You could handle this. Even if it took every part of you not to react, you could handle this.

Or, that was what you thought, at least. Then, you heard metal clink against metal, felt leather crack against the unprotected skin of your ass, and immediately realized you’d been wrong. You couldn’t handle anything.

The noise that escaped you was wordless, base, instinctual; something between a scream and a gasp. The pain was surprisingly cutting, the blunt force of it relatively dull compared to the sharp, piercing sting. The belt came down again, deliberately angled towards space just below its previous target, and you managed to force something out. “Two!”

Suguru clicked his tongue. “Not just yet, sweetheart. Don’t you remember what I told you?”

You heard Satoru lumber closer, positioning himself below where your head laid. “You’re being too mean, Suguru.”

“I’m being strict. There’s a difference. That’s why so many kittens end up so poorly behaved.” He sighed, rubbing a few small, shallow circles into the column of your spine. “You’re going to have to keep me honest. We’re still on one.”

You dug your teeth into your bottom lip. You hated him. More than anything else, more than anyone else, you hated Geto Suguru. It was all you could think, all you could feel, and yet, when his belt came down on your ass, you whimpered out an obedient “O—One.”

By the fifth, you were sniffling.

By the fifteenth, you sobbed unabashedly into the couch cushions, your mechanical counting barely audible.

By the last strike, you’d gone limp and still across Suguru’s lap. Every part of your ass ached. If the bruising wasn’t already visible, it would be within the hour, long before the next time you’d have a chance to dress yourself. You could only hope Suguru would have the mercy not to rub salt in the wound.

Already, you knew that he wouldn’t.

“Ah, there she is – my perfect little kitten.” Suguru hooked a hand under your arm, pulling you upright and letting you straddle his lap. Immediately, you collapsed into his chest, eager to hide your face. He didn’t seem to mind. “You were so good. Satoru called me such ugly names, the first time his behavior had to be corrected.”

Satoru whined in mock hurt, and Suguru chuckled fondly. “How ‘bout we get you somewhere nice and cozy? I think you’ve earned a little rest.”

You opened your mouth, but closed it just as quickly. Silently, you nodded into his shoulder, and Suguru rewarded you with a lingering kiss to the top of your head.

You were taken to Suguru’s room, but rather than his bed, you were placed in Satoru’s – low-walled and velvet-lined, more fit for a dog than a person. Satoru crawled in after you, curling around your crumpled form. The last thing you felt before you shut your eyes was the warm, slick sensation of a tongue running over your cheek, lapping up the last of your drying tears.

As it turned out, Suguru wasn’t an animal trainer. Admittedly, you’d figured that out pretty early on – as soon as you realized the only real animal in his life was Satoru.

Still, ‘cult leader’ probably wouldn’t have been your second guess.

You sat in the furthest corner of the sanctuary, a small crowd filling the limited space. Some were wearing street clothes, their expressions bored but unquestioning, as If Suguru’s sermon was only a prelude to something more engaging. Others, most, were more invested – positioned on their knees, hands at their sides, their eyes focused intently on Suguru where he was reclined on his dais. Both he and Satoru – sitting alert and watchful at his side – were dressed for their roles, drenched in tradition garb from an era long-dead. The only anachronism was Satoru’s mask. It was the same shape as his muzzle, but the metal frame was barred, the edges sloped downward into something sharper, something more defined. Even from the other side of the room, you could see the set of his jaw, the thin line of his scowl. The association had to be intentional. You doubted there was anyone in the world who could look at Satoru and see anything but a guard dog.

You were aware of the intentionality of your seating, too. Across the room, separated from the mass of bodies, placed so temptingly close to the sanctuary door and so directly in Suguru’s line of sight. Occasionally, you’d catch a piece of his lecture, make out something about ‘taking pity on lesser beings’ and ‘practicing divinity through extermination’ before tuning him back you. What little Satoru had told you about invisible monsters and hyper-specific supernatural abilities lingered in the back of your mind, but at a distance – information you knew to be true, but just couldn’t bring yourself genuinely believe. It made sense, in a twisted kind of way. You weren’t sure how you’d ever looked at Suguru and recognized him as fully human.

You drummed your fingers against your knee. Running was tempting, but a bad idea. Even if Suguru was miraculously distracted, Satoru would notice, and you wouldn’t get more than a few steps past the door before he caught you. Still, they’d dressed you for the occasion, and even a single silken layer of your too-complex-for-comfort get-up would be more than enough to pay for cab fare back to the city, back to your apartment, back to friends and resources and the police. That was, if you still had an apartment. You’d already missed at least three months’ worth of rent, and you doubted your landlord would have much sympathy for—

“He’s always been so fucking full of himself.”

You straightened and shot to the side, immediately pulled back into reality. You hadn’t heard him sit down, but suddenly, there was a man at your side – blonde hair slicked back, his black suit tailored immaculately, his posture confident in a careless sort of way. It was hard to tell if he was well-groomed early 40s or a particularly rough late 20s, but either way, the lines carved deep into the grooves of his scowl and the dark circles under his muted eyes spoke to an age-old exhaustion. One directed at Suguru, no less.

“Should’ve seen him in high school. The god complex is new, but the rest of it comes naturally.” You shifted slightly, unsure whether or not you should respond. He didn’t seem to care. You watched out of the corner of your eye as he reached for something in his front pocket – a pack of cigarettes, maybe, or another cheap vice – before thinking better of it and checking his watch. “I’d say Gojo’s a saint for putting up with it, but—”

“He’s worse,” you finished, under your breath. “At home, at least.”

The stranger glanced at you, wearily. As if he’d only expected to talk to himself. “You’re the new addition.”

It wasn’t a question, but after a beat, you nodded. He slumped against the wall. “And you’re here against your will.”

A longer delay, this time, a more hesitant nod. He let out a prolonged breath and directed his attention towards the dais.

“I’m sorry,” he said, finally. “That’s unfair.”

You felt something tighten in the back of your throat. Your collar, hidden well underneath the layers of your ensemble, seemed just a little heavier. “Yeah.” And then, when you could manage it, “I know.”

Suguru gave his final statement, and there was a muted ripple of activity through the crowd – some bowing, some muttering prayers, some wordlessly moving to the side to wait for an undetermined encore. Satoru made it to you first; dropping to his knees and hauling you into his chest. His face was buried in the crook of your neck in a matter of seconds, and you did your best not to care that the blonde stranger’s gaze was still very much boring into you.

Satoru held onto you until, moving at only his own pace, Suguru found his way across the sanctuary. He helped you to your feet and nodded to the stranger by way of greeting. “Bring the kids home in one piece, Kento?”

“Nanami,” he corrected. “Yuuji, Nobara and the twins are in the courtyard now. Megumi left a few minutes ago – his sister tends to worry.”

Suguru hummed. As they exchanged logistics, Satoru propped his chin on your shoulder. “Our latest batch of students,” he explained, keeping his voice low and airy. You wondered if he was allowed to speak in public, how firmly Suguru held onto his rules. You wondered if there’d ever be another time when you didn’t have to think before opening your mouth. “And Suguru’s daughters. You’ll meet them eventually. Kento’s on babysitting duty, in the meantime.”

You couldn’t say you were looking forward to the prospect.

As their conversation began to taper, Kento’s eyes skirted in your direction, and Suguru followed his gaze. Kento’s features were indecipherable, all but entirely blank, but Suguru wasn’t so difficult to read. Anger flashed hot and fast across his expression, quickly settling into something more restrained, something more amused. With a note of levity, he called to you. “Why don’t you join us, dear?”

Immediately, Satoru pulled away, and you were left completely and entirely alone. It took more time than it should’ve to remember how to move your legs, even longer to actually find the will to step forward, but Suguru waited patiently, keeping his hands tucked into his sleeves until you were close enough to take hold of. With an arm wrapped tightly around your waist, he slotted your back against his chest, forcing you to face Kento. “You were quite friendly with my acolytes during the sermon.” You tried to close your eyes, to bow your head, but he caught your chin – keeping you upright an on exhibition. “Kento, here, especially.”

“I’m sorry, I—”

“You misunderstand - it’s a good thing. The last thing I’d want is for you to feel out of place among our little family.” He paused, humming as he tapped his thumb against the corner of your mouth. “In fact, you really ought to show Kento how happy you are to meet him.”

Suguru dug his fingers into your waist. Kento reset his jaw. Satoru smiled widely from behind the bars of his muzzle.

“You should purr for him, love.”

Heat rose to your cheeks – equal parts fury and embarrassment. Kento, for his part, kept his poker face in-tact, nonreactive save for the slightest possible quirk of his lips. His nonchalance provided little comfort, though. An unwilling audience was still an audience. At least, at home, you were given the mercy of a private dehumanization.

“I…” You swallowed, dryly. “I don’t know if I can do that. Like, physically.”

Suguru’s grin broadened. “Try for me.”

The ‘or else’ was left implied.

And the worst part was, you listened. You tried to find it in your throat, first, to flex a muscle you’d never thought to use, but the most you could manage was a low, droning hum – nothing close to a rumble. Kento looked away, humiliated on your behalf, and you opened your mouth, prepared to reiterate that even if you’d wanted to embarrass yourself in front of half his congregation, your body wouldn’t let you. Suguru’s thumb was in your mouth as soon as your lips parted, though, pressing into the flat of your tongue and pinning it to the bottom of your mouth. “You can do better than that, love. For my sake.”

You wouldn’t. You couldn’t. You didn’t want to, but Suguru’s hand curled tighter around your jaw and saliva pooled at the corners of your lips and you forced out a pitchy, half-strangled whine. It wasn’t anything like a purr, not really, but it seemed to satisfy Suguru. His hand had fallen to your hip in the blink of an eye, the edge in his voice softened back down to a cool, smooth timbre. “Ah, I suppose you do need more practice. We’ll have to work on it at home.” He looked to Kento. “Thank you for your unwavering dedication. I trust you’ll be in touch?”

Kento nodded, curtly. “Of course.”

And just like that, you were being ushered out of the sanctuary and into a more seclusive part of the temple, Satoru following close behind you. You tried to look over your shoulder, to see if Kento’s eyes were still following you, but Suguru’s hand found its way to the back of your neck, wordlessly warning you away from something so needlessly masochistic. You didn’t mind, though.

You could still feel his eyes burning into you, the sensation a touch warmer than it’d been a few minutes ago.

“Don’t you hate it?”

Satoru hummed, kneading absent-mindedly at your chest. Currently, the two of you were home alone, and he was engaging in his favorite leisure activity – laying on Suguru’s bed with you pinned to his chest, a human (or, human-ish, at least) body pillow to be squeezed at and cuddled as he faded in and out of sleep. His touch was probing, shifting constantly between your tits, stomach, and thighs, but not necessarily invasive. Despite everything, it was still difficult to see Satoru as anything more than an extension of Suguru, something only dangerous when ordered to be. It was hard to be wary of a weapon when not in the hands of the person who’d used it to hurt you, especially when that weapon was all you had in the way of company.

“What am I supposed to hate, now?”

“Having to share his attention. I mean, it was his idea to kidnap me, right? You don’t have to pretend you’re happy about it, if you’re not. I know you’re—” You recalled the sounds of stifled moaning through thin walls, the feeling of a mattress dipping under the weight of two bodies while you pretended to sleep, and swallowed down your nausea. “I know you two are pretty close.”

Satoru let out a breath of a laugh. “We love each other, princess, Like we both love you.”

“But you don’t.” Admittedly, your tactics were crude. Search until you found a sore spot. Skirt around the edges until it’d gone tender. Make him want to get rid of you. Satoru wouldn’t hurt you, not without Suguru’s permission, but you needed to make him want you gone. There had to be something you could say, something you could do, to give him a reason to carve you a way out and look the other way while you escaped. “Suguru just told you to put up with me. He gave you a new toy, and you’re not even really allowed to play with it – isn’t that unfair?”

“I promise, he didn’t have to tell me to do—”

“And aren’t you scared?”You cut in, feigning distress. “I don’t want to be here, Satoru. And, god forbid, he ever decides he likes me more—”

Satoru didn’t let you finish. His teeth dug into the crook of your neck, turning anything you might’ve gone on to say into an abrupt, high-pitched squeak. The bite was shallow, but it still stung as he pulled away, resting his forehead against the apex of your spine. “Sorry, sorry. It’s just—I know what you’re doing. And it hurts, y’know?”

“…it does?”

“Mhm.” He slotted himself against you, his hand falling from your chest to the hem of your borrowed shirt. “You’re nervous.” And then, his thumb slipping under the waistband of your panties, “You think we’ll get tired of you.”

A new fear, hot and visceral, struck through your chest, lodging itself somewhere between your lungs and your rib cage. While you fought for your ability to breathe, Satoru went on. “Suguru hasn’t told you about the day he let me meet you, has he? That figures. He always hated getting sentimental like that, ‘specially if it makes him look sappy.”

Your panties were tugged downward, to the plush of your thighs. Satoru nestled into your back as he traced over your slit with the pad of his thumb, his touch still heavy with that kind of lazy, pawing affection. You squirmed, and when that failed, did your best to speak through grit teeth. “I—I don’t think you’re supposed to be touching me without—”

“Suguru can find a way to live with it. He’s always liked having an excuse to punish me.” His thumb caught on your clit, pushing slow circles into the sensitive bud. “That’s what I thought he was trying to do, the first time he mentioned bringing you home. He’s always hated non-sorcerers, even after I got him to be a little nicer about it. Honey over vinegar n’ all.” Satoru paused, laughed. “Don’t take it personally, but it was a little like your boyfriend threatening to bring home one of those inflatable sex dolls. Just because of the whole ‘This is what I think you could be replaced with’ thing.”

His hand drew back, but only far enough to cup your sex properly. The heel of his palm ground against your clit as two of his fingers gathered the slick traitorously accumulating between your thighs. “He wouldn’t take me to your apartment, probably thought I’d try to suffocate you in your sleep. Wouldn’t stop bothering him about it, though, so we settled on something more public.”

It wouldn’t have been so agonizing if he’d just gone a little faster, moved with a little more urgency. Instead, he seemed to savor the way your restlessness slowly turned to blatant thrashing, how deeply you dug your nails into his forearm when you reflexively lashed out to try and pry his hand away. Suguru would’ve put you over his knee for that, if not worse. Satoru was different. In a way, Satoru was more sincere. Satoru knew that, even when a housecat bared its claws, the worst it could do was break the skin.

“Remember that florist gig you had, for a while? Just a couple of months – to give you a little extra funding for the sudden move. Not that you needed it. Suguru and I were always ready to take care of you.” He prodded two fingers inside of you and spread them apart. Miserably, you whined into the sheets. “He talked me into it – sitting at the café across the street, watching work for the better part of the day. I spent most of it imagining how to get rid of you without him noticing, but towards the end—”

Satoru cut himself off abruptly with a chiming laugh. You felt his fingers curl inside of you as he re-settled against you. “Suguru did this—this thing. He started touching me under the table, a little like how I’m touching you, and asked how I would feel about having something that couldn’t be taken away from me.”

There was another laugh, softer than the first, then a lingering kiss to the curve of you your shoulder. You made one last unabashed attempt to struggle, to kick, to get away from him, but Satoru only held you that much tighter, forcing another finger into your stuffed cunt.

“He probably meant it as a sex thing – thought I’d like bringing home someone I could be in-charge of. I don’t see it that way, though.”

He nuzzled into the nape of your neck. His breath was first, warm and stifling where it fanned over you, then his tongue – lapping over your back in short, slow swipes. If you’d been any less disgusted, you might’ve found it comforting.

“I think we were always supposed to share you,” he finished, his saliva still drying on your skin. “I think you made to be ours.”

His palm rocked against your clit, his fingers grinding against the sensitive walls of your pussy. It’d only take a few more seconds for you to cum, and a few more minutes for Suguru to come home and find Satoru with his head buried between your thighs and tears running down your cheeks. For your punishment, Satoru would have his arm broken (an injury that, as you’d learned quickly, he could walk off as quickly as the average person would a paper cut) and you’d have to spend bouncing on Suguru’s cock, thanking him for each climax he was generous enough to milk out of you.

Getting the collar off was trickier than you’d expected. The nail clippers, pilfered from a bathroom drawer while Satoru dragged you through his half-conscious morning routine, only dented the leather, and neither of them seemed to feel at-home enough in the villa to leave things as mundane as scissors or box-cutters laying around. In the end, you had to steal a knife from the block left unattended in well-stocked, but sparingly used kitchen – pressing the spine into your throat while sawing through your collar with the blade. It wasn’t the safest option, but it got the job done, and you managed to keep the damage limited to a small nick on the underside of your chin. You left the remains of your collar on the mat in front of the villa’s main door and waited.

Suguru wasn’t ecstatic, to say the least.

He found you in the living room, sprawled across the largest sofa you could find, wearing a hoodie that Satoru had made you promise to take off before he and Suguru got home. Satoru trailed behind him – a shadow with an inverted color palette. They must’ve come straight from the temple, or something to do with Suguru’s cult, at least. They were both still in their traditional get-ups, and Suguru was wearing the easy, narrow-eyed smile he only seemed to make use of during his sermons.

You had to hand it to him. Had it not been for how tightly his fist was curled around the strip of ruined leather in his hand, you wouldn’t have known he was angry at all.

“’toru,” he started, his tone light and melodic. “On the floor. Stomach-down. By the time I come back.”

He turned on his heel, slipping into another part of the villa, but Satoru lingered. He stared at you from the doorway for a second, then another, his eyes blank and his face unnaturally pale.

Then, you moved to stand, making a pitifully clumsy attempt to run, and he was on top of you.

It was strange – to see Satoru so quiet. He kept his lips sealed and his jaw locked as he pinned you to the floor, straddling your lower back and forcing your wrists against the tender spot between your shoulder blades. You could’ve tried to get away, but you didn’t. There was no world wherein you could overpower Satoru, and he knew that as well as you did.

Suguru took his time. Full minutes later, he returned, having replaced your collar with a pair of rusted-out pliers. It seemed wrong to see him carrying such a crude tool, like violist showing up to their recital with a sledgehammer rather than an instrument. You weren’t really in a place to comment, though.

“Princess.” He crouched in front of you, letting his head lull to the side. He cupped your chin, thumb running over the hairline scrape you’d inflicted onto yourself, before pulling away. “You know what this means, don’t you?”

You swallowed, thickly. “I didn’t want to, I just—I couldn’t wear it, anymore. It hurt my neck, and I couldn’t breathe, and—” Pausing, stiffening, digging your nails into your palms. “—and I’m not your fucking cat, you sociopath.”

Suguru sighed, his smile falling. He exchanged a glance with Satoru, expression unchanging, before looking back to you.

“I’ll be nice,” he said, finally. “Bad kittens can either get declawed, or defanged. Since you seem so unhappy with your current level of autonomy, I’ll let you choose.”

You balked. “I’m not playing your—”

“Satoru.” Apparently, you’d already run his patience thin. “Choose.”

You couldn’t decide whether it’d be better or worse, had his answer not been so deafeningly automatic. “Declawed. And just the index finger.”

“And why is that, puppy?”

“Because she doesn’t know what she’s saying. She’ll be more careful after she’s learned her lesson.”

Suguru hummed, his posture taking on a slacker note. After a beat, he nodded. “Give me a hand, then.”

This time, you did fight it – albeit, not very effectively. You did your best to wrench your arms from Satoru’s grip, and when that failed, to jerk away as he curled a hand around your left wrist and pressed it into the floor. Suguru moved to take your hand, but stopped barely a hair’s width short, his eyes flickering back to Satoru. “Sorry,” Satoru mumbled. There was a nearly imperceptible shift in the atmosphere – a change in the air pressure, a drop in the temperature – before he went on. “It’s a reflex.”

Suguru didn’t waste time. He spread his hand under yours, interlocking your fingers and holding you steady as he brought his pliers up to your fingertips. The nose of the lower hinge worked underneath your nail while the ribbed underside of its upper counterpart scratched against it, the texture alone enough to make you cringe. You shut your eyes and tried to distract yourself, but nothing you could’ve dredged up would’ve dulled the feeling of blunt metal digging into your nail-bed, of the jaws clenching around something so thin, something so suddenly fragile. There was a light pull, testing for grip, then the pain.

Burning, throbbing, blinding. The soreness of it was almost worse than the sting, your body protesting the jarring absence of something it hadn’t known to imagine life without. You’d expected the pain to be limited, isolated, but it spread quickly – infecting everything below your elbow with phantom pains and sympathy aches. You’d told yourself you’d stay quiet, that you couldn’t cry, but a scream tore past your lips involuntarily, the tears following shortly after. That was fine. That was good, actually. They should know that they’d hurt you. They should know why you’d never, ever be able to love them back.

Hot blood pooled in the space your nail had once filled, dripping down your finger and spilling onto Suguru’s skin. Rather than let you go, he pulled you closer, bringing your hand to his face and taking your mutilated finger into his mouth. His tongue ran over the empty nail-bed, enlightening you to a brand new type of agony. You were sobbing unabashedly by the time he pulled away, the crimson of your blood dotting the corner of his lips.

“Take her to the cellar.” He was talking to Satoru, not you. That was fair. You weren’t in a state to listen to much of anything, right now. “It seems like we all need a little time to think.”

There was no protest from Satoru, no resistance from you. It was all you could do to cradle your wounded hand against your chest as he gathered you up and held you against his chest. With no great sense of urgency, he navigated through empty rooms and endless hallways, up the natural incline of rustic architecture and down, down, down into a lightless, concrete abyss. Despite the size of the basement, it’d been left deliberately void, with only a bare mattress and a few thin sheets to fill the desolation. Two lengths of thick chain hung limp from the wall above it, each one punctuated by a metal shackle, but you didn’t have the strength to acknowledge them.

Satoru set you on the edge of the mattress. Rather than curl into yourself, you clung to him – refusing to let go even as he tried to pull away. “Please,” you begged, the sound of your own desperation catching you off-guard. “Please, I’ll be good, and I’ll wear my collar, and I’ll purr, and—”

His arms were wrapped around you, keeping you pressed against him. But, despite the gentle warmth of his embrace, his voice was cold as ice.

“Pets don’t talk.”

You’d wanted Suguru’s, but Satoru had been the one to hold you down, to carry you, to let you cling to him for just a few seconds longer than he should’ve. Calling the police was a non-option, a fantasy you’d been childish to indulge. You’d seen more than a few officers at Suguru’s sermons, and asking anyone you knew, anyone you trusted for help would just be inviting lambs to the slaughter. You didn’t want to be the reason Satoru had fresh meat to tear from the bone.

You let out a keening, miserable sob. Satoru didn’t crack, but he softened, sighing as he kissed the top of your head. The next time he drew back, you let him – falling onto your side and curling into the smallest possible ball. You stayed that way as you listened to him climb the cellar stairs, as the heaviest lock you’d ever heard slid into place. It was only when you were completely, entirely sure he was gone that you sat up and, after wiping away your tears as best you could, fished his phone out of your hoodie’s pocket – still warm from where it’d been trapped between your body and his. You’d clear the history and hide it underneath the staircase later, as if it’d fallen between the steps. So long as Satoru found it before Suguru, you shouldn’t get in trouble.

It took you three minutes to guess his passcode (your birthday) and four more to find the name you were looking for in his contacts. The phone only rang twice, but he offered no greeting, leaving you to break the silence, your voice more unsteady than you would’ve liked.

“…Kento?”

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